"Regina, I saw Mr. Palma in New York."
"I hope he is well."
"He certainly looked so. Among other things, he asked if the art of writing had been altogether omitted in your education. I told him I was unacquainted with your accomplishments in that line, as I had written you two letters which remained unanswered."
"But your mother thanked you for them in my name."
"Which was very sweet and good in my dear mother, but questionably courteous in you. Mr. Palma sent you a present."
"He is very kind indeed, but if I am expected to write and thank him,
I would much rather not receive it."
"Do you dislike him?"
"How could I dislike my mother's best friend? I daresay he has a good heart—of course he must have; but whenever I think of him I feel a queer chill creep to my very finger-tips, as if the north wind blew hard upon me, or an iceberg sailed by."
"Guess what he sent you."
"A copybook, pen, and ink?"