"We must have named you rightly."
She wrote regularly to her uncle; her letters unconsciously growing
more friendly and informal from week to week. They were bright, vivid
letters, more so than Pauline had any idea of. Through them, Mr. Paul
Shaw felt himself becoming very well acquainted with these young
relatives whom he had never seen, and in whom, as the weeks went by, he
felt himself growing more and more interested.
Without realizing it, he got into the habit of looking forward to that
weekly letter; the girl wrote a nice clear hand, there didn't seem to
be any nonsense about her, and she had a way of going right to her
point that was most satisfactory. It seemed sometimes as if he could
see the old white parsonage and ivy-covered church; the broad
tree-shaded lawns; the outdoor parlor, with the young people gathered
about the tea-table; Bedelia, picking her way along the quiet country
roads; the great lake in all its moods; the manor house.
Sometimes Pauline would enclose one or two of Hilary's snap-shots of
places, or persons. At one of these, taken the day of the fishing
picnic, and under which Hilary had written "The best catch of the
season," Mr.
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