Mrs. Paxton told the contents of hers to all who would listen, and there were enough who were curious, to make a good audience.
"To Mrs. Clara Fenton Paxton:" it began, refraining from any endearing terms.
"I knew, before I met you, that you and your small daughter were related to my husband, and also knew that he entertained no admiration for you. He left his entire estate to me, and as you were but a distant relative, you could expect no inheritance. However, with a determination to deal fairly with all my kin (I have but three such), I came to the Cleverton to see you and your little daughter, intending, if she proved sweet-tempered and attractive, to will my property to her. She is the only one of the three relatives who bears my husband's name.
"I do not wish to be harsh, but I am forced to admit that I find her to be bold, naturally unkind, and wholly lacking in the grace and courtesy which most children possess, either by training or inheritance.
"I, therefore, have made my will in favor of Nancy Ferris, once a little waif, now a sweet, gentle, and attractive child, whose little acts of courtesy and kindness are fully appreciated by
"Her friend,
"Cecilia Cullen Fenton."
"A most singular woman, to leave her property to a waif, a child of the theatre, and not bequeath so much as a penny to my Floretta, whom any one could see is an aristocrat," said Mrs. Paxton.
"Mrs. Fenton, or anybody else, would need some rather strong glasses to see that!" muttered Mr. Cunningham.
He was a testy old fellow, and he, like other guests of the hotel, had become exceedingly tired of Mrs. Paxton and her unlovely child.
The other letter gave surprise and delight to the two who had shared in the care and training of little Nancy.