The smooth brow was slightly shadowed again. "Mamma," she said, in a low tone, "can people—grown-up ladies, I mean—get along without saying or doing things that they really do not mean to have taken in earnest?"
"They had better not say them. A Christian woman will be truthful first of all; but it is not necessary to make candor a cloak for the indulgence of unkind or heartless remarks. Religion, it seems to me, holds the essence of true politeness,—to do unto others as you would have them do unto you."
The next day Kathie was quite late in getting home, having stopped at the Darrells'. Uncle Robert and mamma were up in Aunt Ruth's room.
"What will you give me for a letter with a grand seal as if it came from the very Commander-in-Chief or the President? Look! To 'Miss Kathie Alston.' What correspondent have you in Washington, we would all like to know?"
Uncle Robert held the letter above her head. A bold, peculiar handwriting that she had never seen before. Whose could it be?
"I am sure I don't know," coloring with interest and excitement. "I have a gold piece in my purse."
"I will not be quite so mercenary as that. You shall tell us whom it is from."
Kathie took the letter and broke it open so as not to destroy the seal, saw the beginning,—"My dear little friend,"—ran her eye over the two pages without taking in anything, and looked at the signature.
"O," with a cry of surprise, "it is from General Mackenzie! Why,"—and then she began to read in good earnest,—"Mr. Morrison is alive, safe! General Mackenzie found him. O Uncle Robert!"