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"That's why I call him Frad," said Patricia, with a twinkle. "Combines the whole and is entirely original, and so suited to his situation. I don't think he ought to drop all the Carson name, particularly while we're all living comfortably on the Carson money. It seems sort of ungrateful to me." "Dido--the negress, of Mrs. Dallas!" It had a surprise in it, and I sat back on the grass and read it with my heart beating like a hammer. He was leaving Paris the day he had posted it, and he was due to arrive in London almost as soon as it did, just any hour now I calculated in a flash. And "from London immediately to Hillsboro" he had written in words that fairly sung themselves off the paper. I was frightened—so frightened that the letter shook in my hands, and with only the thought of being sure that I might be alone for a few minutes with it, I fled to the garret..
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"Oh, Miss Pat!" she cried in an ecstasy. "I've made good, and I can write to Bruce and tell him!" "I'll let you open the door—for luck, Judy," he said, holding out a key. "See if you can guess which door it belongs to." Patricia, noting the downy line that penciled the corners of her firm mouth, hesitated to put an inquiry that could be delicate enough to indicate the faint moustache without hurting Miss Jinny's feelings. "What does it matter if we do miss the train?" she insisted. "We can take the early one in the morning. We'll be home almost as soon.".
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