She was greatly surprised when she saw him take from the cigar box a much
soiled, yellowish-looking letter, and she could not help feeling that in
some way it concerned herself. Suddenly appearing, she startled Rondeau by
saying, "What are you doing? Whose is that? Give it to me."

Rondeau was anxious to conceal from her his long-buried treasure, and he
passed her the other. She took it and recognizing Mr. Miller’s writing,
knew also that Rondeau had given her the wrong one, so she said in a
commanding tone, "What does all this mean? Give me the other one
immediately."

The submissive African, ever obedient to his superiors, handed her the
other letter, and then in a few words told his story, and announced his
intention of confessing all to his master, at the same time extending his
hand to take the letters. But Julia did not mean he should have them, and
she said, coaxingly, "You have done very wrong, Rondeau, and your master
will undoubtedly be very angry, but I will take them to him and intercede
for you, as you are on the whole a pretty fine fellow. He’ll forgive you
for me. I know he will, but mind, don’t you say anything to him about it
until you’ve seen me again."

So saying, she returned to the house and, going to her room, bolted the
door. After which, breaking the seal of the oldest letter, she
deliberately read it through, occasionally uttering a malediction against
Mr. Miller, thanking the good luck which brought it to her hands instead
of Dr. Lacey’s, and making remarks generally. Said she, "Mighty good
opinion Mr. Quilting-frames has of me (alluding to Mr. Miller’s height),
glad I know his mind. A heap of good the answer to this did him, and his
doll wife, too. Hadn’t I better answer it myself? I’d write after this
fashion: ’Mr. Miller—At first I thought I would treat your letter with