Miss Amy Humbert would be pleased to see him on Wednesday evening between eight and nine. The old fashioned formality made him smile, but it pleased him, it pleased him very much. It was one step nearer to his Rosaleen. Then he opened the other.
His aunt noticed that he had stopped eating. He sat staring at his plate, lost in thought, frowning. Then he looked up stealthily at her, and she endured his critical regard with calmness. And he evidently decided at last that she was to be trusted, for he got up and brought his two letters to her.
She read the invitation with a smile; then she looked at the other, scratched, scrawled on a piece of cheap paper in a stamped envelope.
“Dear Mr. Landry:
“Please don’t come on Wednesday. Please don’t ever come. If you will come to Miss Waters’ studio this afternoon I will explain. But please do not write, because I do not get the letters.”
And it was signed simply “R.”
“And I can’t go to Miss Waters’!” he cried. “I can’t possibly ask for an afternoon off the very first week of this new job!”
“Who is ‘R’?” asked his aunt, gently.
“Rosaleen. What do you make of this, Aunt Emmie?”
“My dearest boy, Ah don’t know anything about it at all, remember! Can’t you tell me something about her?”