ask Hannah to tell you what my boy was like. I had him for five years,
then I lost him; he did not die--he was stolen from me. Can you wonder
now that your mother sometimes looks sad, and that even you and
Jasmine and Daisy fail now and then to make me smile?

"My bonny boy was stolen. I never saw him dead; I never could go to
his grave to put flowers there--twenty years ago now he was taken from
me, and I have had neither trace nor tidings of him.

"Hannah will tell you particulars, Primrose, for I cannot. My trouble
far surpassed the bitterness of death. Only for you three, I could not
have lived--

"Your mother,
"Constance Mainwaring."

Primrose had scarcely finished reading this letter, and had by no
means taken in the full meaning of its contents, when light, soft
footsteps paused outside the room, and she heard the handle of the
door being very softly turned.

Cramming the letter into her pocket, and shutting the lid of the
little cabinet, she ran and unlocked the door. Jasmine was standing
without.

"I looked for you everywhere, Primrose, and I did not mean really to
disturb you here; I thought you might be here, and I tried the handle
very softly, meaning to steal away again. Are you very busy,
Primrose?"