“The history is not new,” remarked Silence Blossom as she glanced them over.
“No; Clara Brown used it last year. But it is not much soiled and she let me have it fifty cents cheaper than a new one, and I have a particular use for that fifty cents.”
With that Rose went up to her room and after a time came down with an open letter in her hand. “I’ve been writing to Mrs. Hagood, and I’d like to read it to you, and have you tell me if it’s all right.
“‘Dear Madam,’
“I thought first I wouldn’t say ‘dear,’” she explained, “for she never was dear to me, one little bit; but I thought it would be polite to, and I wanted to be polite.
“‘Perhaps you think that I ought not to have taken those things to eat when I left your house, though they were not much more than I would have eaten at the supper which I did not have, and the basket I put them in was an old grape basket. So I send you fifty cents, which is all everything is worth, and more, too!’
“Fifty cents was all Ben paid for my dinner the next day, and it was a fine dinner.
“‘I am living with a very nice family who are so kind to me. Mrs. Blossom found my relatives, and my real name is not Posey Sharpe, but Rose Shannon. My grandmother had left me property, so I am not a charity child any more, but have money of my own to pay for my board and clothes, and an education. I like Farmdale, and have good friends here. The paper I am writing on is from a box given me at Christmas.’”
She paused and looked from one to another. “Will that do?”
“I didn’t hear any regret for the way you left Mrs. Hagood,” said Mrs. Blossom.