Eggert brought the things to us, having had sense enough to inquire at the office when he knew a steamer was in. Miss May had taken the precaution to have hers addressed "Care Miss M. Carney," after I told her she would be weighted with this title, and her friends supposed, no doubt, that the unfamiliar name represented the proprietress of a hotel or boarding house. She gave a joyful cry as I held two letters out to her, made the usual feminine inquiry if that was all, and retired to a corner by herself to read them, like a dog with a bone.
The first letter I opened was from Tom Barton, the second from his sister. Tom's was merely a recital of the latest happenings that he thought might interest me, and expressions of hope that I would derive great benefit from my cruise. Statia's was a homily on the beauty of holiness and a sermon on the alleged fact that wicked deeds are often punished nearer home than in that subterranean place of extreme heat of which most moderns have begun to doubt. She was evidently in about the same frame of mind as when I last saw her, but I was too glad to know that she cared enough about me to write at all to be severely critical. I liked Statia. She filled a place in my heart that had been vacant before—a sort of sisterly place, as near as I can tell—and I resolved while reading to curb my tendency to joke when I answered her and take a weight off her mind if I could.
The next letter was a formal one from Uncle Dugald, reading like an official document. And the only remaining one was—of all things—from Miss Alice Brazier, who had adopted my suggestion and renewed her injunctions at the expense of a five cent stamp. I expected something from Harvey Hume, and when I looked over the odd packages of printed matter I detected his handwriting on several of them. Like Mary of old, he had chosen the better part, and had contributed as much to my happiness as either of the others. Six daily papers and three magazines, besides a new novel, bore his fist on their wrappers, and he had broken the laws of the postoffice by scribbling on stray corners certain "God bless you's!" for which I hope he will be forgiven.
"Do you want to read a letter I have received, warning me against you?" I asked, laughingly, going to where Miss May sat. "Or perhaps, to state it more accurately, warning you against me; at least, warning us against each other."
She looked rather startled at my first observation and held out her hand for the missive as I finished.
I sat down beside her, prefacing an actual exhibition of the note from Miss Brazier by a reminder that I had informed her early in our acquaintance of the lady's answer to my Herald advertisement. She read the note through, as I held it in my hands, and when she had finished wore a very sober face.
"This seems to amuse you," she said, regarding me with a strange look. "I do not see why it should. The person who wrote that is actuated by the sincerest regard for your welfare. It would have been much better for you had you taken her on this journey instead of me."
"But," I answered, lightly, "it would not have been half so well for you, which is why I did not do it. I want you to understand that I am not here for my own health, but yours. As for Alice Brazier, she wrote me, when she found I would not take her, anyway—that she was surprised at the 'nerve' of the successful applicant."
"I am surprised at it myself," said Miss May, refusing to laugh. "I grow more and more surprised at it every day."
"I suppose you wish me to believe you are sorry," I said, bridling just the least bit.