In a moment Polly and I were standing on the window-ledge, peering down--to the best of our ability--into the square and into the area depths below.

Like a snow-flake in summer, we saw our paper-twist lying on the pavement; but our delight rose to ecstasy when a portly passer-by stooped and picked up the document and carefully examined it.
Out of this incident arose a systematic amusement, which, in advance of our age, we called "the parcel post." By shoving aside the fire-guard in the absence of our nurses, we obtained some cinders, with which we repaired to our post at the window, thus illustrating that natural proclivity of children to places of danger which is the bane of parents and guardians.

Here we fastened up little fragments of cinder in pieces of writing-paper, and having secured them tidily with string, we dropped these parcels through the iron bars as into a post-office.

It was a breathless moment when they fell through space like shooting stars.

It was a triumph if they cleared the area.