"I just knew. It's part of the secret."

"You'll have to tell Hugh," Prudence said firmly; "you can't have
secret ways into other people's houses."

"I won't tell anyone. It's my mysterious secret and I shall keep
it."

Prudence frowned and opened her mouth to speak again, but Mollie
signed to her to be silent. Mollie was not a Patrol Leader for
nothing; she had learned to be diplomatic, and now she turned the
conversation:

"Where are those parcels?" she asked.

"The parcels! Goodness me, I forgot them! How _could_ I do such a
thing!" Prudence exclaimed, jumping up from the green chair and
rushing into the hall, followed by Mollie; Grizzel sat on in sulky
dignity, trying to look uninterested.

"Suppose Papa had come home and found we had not opened them, his
feelings would have been dreadfully hurt," Prudence said with
compunction. "It would have been murder outing. He always says
murder will out." Grizzel's dignity could not survive the sight of
the brown-paper packages, and the parcels were quickly undone and
the wrappings and string tidied away--"the evidences of our folly",
Prue said, as she bundled them out of sight. The contents were so
charming that everybody forgot their little difference of opinion.
There was a fine large kaleidoscope, the first she had ever seen,
for Mollie; a charming musical box, with a long list of tunes