She handled those letters and stared at them.

Father and mother came through the orchard and stood together behind us, so father knelt down at last, reached across Shelley's shoulder, picked one up and looked at it.
"Have you good word, dear ?" asked mother of Shelley.
"Why, I don't understand at all," said Shelley.

"Just look at all these queer letters, addressed to Mr.Paget.

Why should they be sent to me?
I mustn't open them.

They're not mine.