I was happy and contented in my little home, so happy with my precious mother's care and companionship, that nothing can ever come into my life to bring greater happiness, or greater desire to do and be good, and our little society helped me.
And yet, dear Winnie, I would not have my mother back to suffer. How much she must have suffered in her isolation from her people, I never knew until I came among them. Never could orphan have found more lovely relatives. I inclose in this my letter to the club, to be read at your next meeting. With my heart full of gratitude to your mother and all the rest, I am,
Your loving friend,
Ernestine.
Ernestine to the Warrior Maidens.
Dear Girls:
When you read this you will all be together at Miriam's and I know you will wish, as I do, that I could be with you. I am here at my grandmother's home, and a beautiful place it is, with its large rooms and fine, old-fashioned furniture. It is in a very quiet neighborhood, which will seem strange to you when I say that it is but a few minutes' walk from Broadway, with its crowds of people, who always seem in a hurry.
When Uncle Morris and I first reached New York, we went straight to his home. His wife received me very kindly, and my cousins (one a young lady, another a girl about my own age, and two boys younger,) were kind, too, and they all wanted me to stay with them. But my grandparents said they must have me, and I was glad to come, for I felt strange with so many new cousins, and was afraid I would find it hard to fall into their ways.
I have such a beautiful room, all my own. It has east windows which open over a little court, where the first thing I see when I throw back my shutters in the morning, is a fountain sparkling in the sun, with rainbows in its spray, and birds flying about and bathing in the pool.