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Updated: May 19, 2025
Here it is!" My attention had by this time been caught by the jelly, now unmistakably solidifying in the center. I moved to the kitchen door to tell Delia to take it off the fire. When I returned, Maggie was digging under the telephone battery-box with a hair-pin and muttering to herself. "Darnation!" she said, "it's gone under!" "If you do get it," I reminded her, "it belongs to Miss Emily."
All that existed for Maggie was a twenty-five cent piece under a battery-box. Suddenly she wailed: "It's gone, Miss Agnes. It's clear under!" "Good heavens, Maggie! What difference does it make?" "W'you mind if I got the ice-pick and unscrewed the box?" My menage is always notoriously short of tools.
"How did I know that paper was in the telephone-box?" she countered. And, indeed, by that time Maggie had convinced herself that she had known all along there was something in the telephone battery-box. "I've a sort of second sight, Miss Agnes," she added.
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