As she spread out the heavy
businesslike sheet of paper within, a small folded enclosure fell from
it into her lap.
"Oh, mother!" Pauline caught up the narrow blue slip. She had never
received a check from anyone before. "Mother! listen!" and she read
aloud, "'Pay to the order of Miss Pauline A. Shaw, the sum of
twenty-five dollars.'"
Twenty-five dollars! One ought to be able to do a good deal with
twenty-five dollars!
"Goodness me!" Patience exclaimed. She had followed her sister
up-stairs, after a discreet interval, curling herself up unobtrusively
in a big chair just inside the doorway. "Can you do what you like with
it, Paul?"
But Pauline was bending over the letter, a bright spot of color on each
cheek. Presently, she handed it to her mother. "I wish--I'd never
written to him! Read it, mother!"
And Mrs. Shaw read, as follows--
NEW YORK CITY, May 31, 19--.
_Miss Pauline A. Shaw,
Winton, Vt._
MY DEAR NIECE: Yours of May 16th to hand. I am sorry to learn that
your sister Hilary appears to be in such poor health at present. Such
being the case, however, it would seem to me that home was the best
place for her. I do not at all approve of this modern fashion of
running about the country, on any and every pretext.
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