"The division is not just—Bessie having two letters; you might give me one."
"I'm too selfish," she answered.
"Mine is from Mary Harrington," observed Elsie. "Bess, you shall not read yours till you have given us our coffee. I'll just see what the widow says."
Elizabeth poured out the coffee while Elsie opened her note.
"She is coming to-day," she exclaimed; "I told you so. She sends all sorts of messages to you, Grant; calls you a god-like, wonderful creature, and is dying to see you."
"Oh, of course," said Mellen.
"She asks after Mr. Rhodes, Bessie—poor old fellow—she has quite turned his head."
"What is that?" asked Mellen.
So Elsie explained how the widow delighted in worrying Miss Jemima, had made desperate love to the stout man on every occasion; and in laughing at her quaint speeches Elizabeth quite forgot her own epistles.
"Why, where are your letters?" asked Elsie.