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Elinor looked her surprise. "Why, I didn't know Hannah Ann liked me specially," she protested. "I thought Miss Pat was her favorite." "She want you to-day," insisted Dido, obstinately. That dinner was going like an airship on a high wind, when something happened to tangle its tail feathers, and I can hardly write it for trembling yet. It was a simple little telegram, but it might have been nitro-glycerine on a tear for the way it acted. It was for me, but the nephew handed it to Tom, and he opened it and, looking at me, he solemnly read it out loud. It said—.
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"How she'd have adored mother, if she had only lived," said Elinor softly. "Mother was so lovely. I always feel that you two have been cheated out of so much—not even to have a dim memory of her." After their laughter at her dramatic disappearance had died down, they sat quietly in the twilight watching the lamps flicker into life across the park, each one busy with her own thoughts. Patricia followed her into the big, clay-soiled, dusty room, clutching her new smooth wooden tools with nervous fingers. "You--you--you forbid me!".
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