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"
There
!
"
he
said
.
"
I
'll
just
slip
a
bit
of
string
and
a
bit
of
paper
round
'em
.
"
He
pulled
an
old
newspaper
from
the
pile
and
spread
it
on
the
table
,
and
made
a
neat
parcel
of
it
.
"
There
,
"
said
he
,
"
there
's
lots
of
pictures
,
and
if
he
likes
to
mess
'em
about
with
his
paint-box
,
or
coloured
chalks
or
what
not
,
why
,
let
him
.
I
do
n't
want
'em
.
"
"
You
're
a
dear
,
"
said
Bobbie
,
took
the
parcel
,
and
started
.
The
papers
were
heavy
,
and
when
she
had
to
wait
at
the
level-crossing
while
a
train
went
by
,
she
rested
the
parcel
on
the
top
of
the
gate
.
And
idly
she
looked
at
the
printing
on
the
paper
that
the
parcel
was
wrapped
in
.
Suddenly
she
clutched
the
parcel
tighter
and
bent
her
head
over
it
.
It
seemed
like
some
horrible
dream
.
She
read
on
--
the
bottom
of
the
column
was
torn
off
--
she
could
read
no
farther
.
She
never
remembered
how
she
got
home
.
But
she
went
on
tiptoe
to
her
room
and
locked
the
door
.
Then
she
undid
the
parcel
and
read
that
printed
column
again
,
sitting
on
the
edge
of
her
bed
,
her
hands
and
feet
icy
cold
and
her
face
burning
.
When
she
had
read
all
there
was
,
she
drew
a
long
,
uneven
breath
.
"
So
now
I
know
,
"
she
said
.
What
she
had
read
was
headed
,
'
End
of
the
Trial
.
Verdict
.
Sentence
.
'
The
name
of
the
man
who
had
been
tried
was
the
name
of
her
Father
.
The
verdict
was
'
Guilty
.
'
And
the
sentence
was
'
Five
years
'
Penal
Servitude
'
