"Of course—the very thing! You're sure you don't mind? You'll be awfully sleepy in the morning."
"I'd love to do it," Carita answered, truthfully. To be of service to Blue Bonnet constituted her greatest happiness. "Hurry up and write it!"
For the next ten minutes Blue Bonnet's pen scratched away busily. There must have been some difficulty in writing the note, for several attempts went the way of the waste basket. Finally it was done. Blue Bonnet read it through three times, then slipped it into an envelope and laid it on the table beside the bed.
"There it is," she said, eying it with misgivings. "I hope it's all right, and I haven't been too awfully humble. I don't suppose he cares a rap, anyway—as long as—"
She stopped abruptly. She was going to say "as long as Kitty Clark was around," but she couldn't bring herself to it.
Carita was up with the larks the next morning and slipping down-stairs quietly, so that she did not even waken Blue Bonnet, found Denham and gave him the note.
"It's for Mr. Alec, Denham," she said, "and it's very, very important. Please take it over immediately and give it to the cook. Tell her to give it to Mr. Alec the first thing when he comes down to breakfast. And, Denham, please impress upon her how important it is. She might mislay it or something."
Denham promised faithfully, and a few hours later at the station Blue Bonnet was rewarded by a cordial handshake from Alec.
"I got the note all right, Blue Bonnet. It was good of you to send it over—makes my going away a lot easier. Hope you have a jolly good vacation. Put Judson through his paces, won't you? Good-by. Send along some of those fine letters of yours and tell me all the news."
He was off, and Blue Bonnet watched the long train vanish into a black speck.