CHAPTER XII COUSIN HERBERT
Arrived at the hotel in Boston, an inquiry for Herbert Loring revealed that he was still there, but indisposed and not seeing visitors.
In the suite Diana engaged, the two friends discussed ways and means, and it was decided that Diana should write a note to the invalid and make herself known.
My dear Mr. Loring (she wrote),
I might perhaps call you Cousin Herbert, for I believe my father, Charles Wilbur, claims relationship, and, if you grant me permission, I certainly shall do so. I believe you and my father had time to see something of one another before steel swallowed him up and you became absorbed in railroads. My mother is at our cottage in Newport, and is wondering whether you could be induced to visit us when Father returns from a cruise he is taking. I am here in the hotel for a short time, and would like very much to call on you if there is some half-hour when you would feel like seeing a relative, even though you could not grant a similar privilege to an outsider. I shall be so glad if you can allow me to make your acquaintance. It would be a satisfaction to my parents to hear from you by word of mouth. My mother saw by the papers that you were back in this country and she wrote me of it. I have been on one of the islands in Casco Bay where one gets very near to Nature's heart: the best thing that can happen to a tired schoolgirl.
Kindly let me hear from you, and I shall be grateful if you will see me. After all, though we are strangers, blood is thicker than water!
Yours cordially
Diana Wilbur
"This is most extraordinary, upon my word, it is most extraordinary," was Herbert Loring's comment when he had read this communication. His words might have been addressed to thin air or to Marlitt, his man; and Marlitt knew by experience that it was well not to appropriate them until he had received some further hint. So he stood at attention and looked with interest at the view from an opposite window.
His employer was a haggard man, with a white mustache and gray hair. He was immaculately groomed and was seated in a reclining chair, his feet supported on the footrest. He wore a rich dressing-gown of gray silk. One noticed that his left arm was never raised, but with his right hand he now stroked his mustache. There were pouches under the eyes he lifted to his valet.
"Here is a schoolgirl in the hotel who wants to come to see me; says she's my cousin. I'm a nice figure to receive a schoolgirl."
Marlitt raised his eyebrows. "You are certainly in shape to receive anybody, sir. But this young lady? May she be an impostor, sir?"
"No. I think not." Marlitt perceived that the note was an agreeable incident. "She says she is the daughter of Wilbur, the Philadelphia steel man. It's odd that they should not have forgotten me."