"Well, my dear, you are kind to me too. I believe we are of mutual benefit each to the other. Now, will you put on your hat and take those letters to the nearest post? You will just have time to get them in before we go downstairs to _dejeuner_." Nothing could be more welcome to Annie than this last remark, for while she was talking she was wondering much in her clever little brain if she could carry out a scheme which had darted through it. The opportunity of posting the letters gave her just the loophole she desired. Taking the pile from the table, she accordingly ran out of the room, and a few minutes later was walking down the street which led to the post-office. On her way there she met Mabel Lushington and Priscilla. They were coming back after a long, rambling walk, and both girls were rather tired. "Whither away, Annie?" said Mabel in her cheerful voice. "To post some letters for your aunt, Lady Lushington." "But the post does not go out until the evening, and that hill is so steep and difficult to climb, and it is almost the hour for _dejeuner_," objected Mabel. "Do turn back with us now, Annie; I shall so hate waiting lunch for you." "Oh, give me the letters if you like," said Priscilla; "I will run down the hill in no time, and come back again as quickly. I do not mind climbing hills in the least." "They exhaust me frightfully," said Mabel; "and I notice, too, that Annie gets a little out of breath when she walks up these impossible mountains too fast. That is a good idea, really. Give Priscie the letters, Annie, and come home with me; I want to talk to you." "No, I can't," said Annie. "I must post them myself; they are important." She darted away, pretending not to notice Mabel's flushed, indignant face and Priscilla's look of grave surprise. She reached the post-office and dropped all the letters she had written, except that one to Mrs Priestley, into the box. Mrs Priestley's letter she kept safely in her pocket. "This must be delayed for perhaps a couple of days," thought Annie. "In the meantime I shall have to talk to May. What a mercy," was her next reflection, "that I was given the writing of the letter, and also the posting of it! Oh dear, dear! I think I can almost manage anything. I am sure May ought to be obliged to me, and so ought that tiresome Priscie. I would do anything for dear old May; but as to Priscie, I get more sick of her each minute. If only Lady Lushington would send her back to England I should feel safer. She is just the sort of girl who would wind herself to a grand confession, never caring how she dragged the rest of us into the mire with her. She is just precisely that sort of detestable martyr being. But she sha'n't spoil my fun, or May's fun either, if we can help it." Annie appeared at lunch just a wee bit late, but looking remarkably pretty, and apologising in the most amiable tones for her unavoidable delay.