There, Uncle David is cranking that terrible machine. I must go. Carin, we who go to die salute thee!
I will you my amber beads.
Tremblingly,
Azalea.
CHAPTER IV
MADAM GRANDMOTHER
Mallowbanks, Brent County, S. C.,
November first.
Poor neglected Carin:
I know it, Carin. I know I have treated you badly. I know that you have been expecting and wondering and scolding because I have not written.
But when you say that I have forgotten you because of my new friends, well—I haven’t any answer to that. Nothing pleasant ever happens to me that I do not wish you were with me to share it, and nothing bad ever happens that I do not think in the midst of all my trouble:
“I will make a story out of that to tell to Carin and—well, Annie Laurie or any other person whom I love.”