D——, M——, Dec. 2, 19—.
Kitty dearest,—
Throw up your hat, and give three cheers for Teuffel! Then think of me—first violin in the orchestra! Teuffel has at last waked up to the merits of the humble. I won’t tell you what he is going to pay me—good news has been known to work havoc, and I must dole it out to you in small spoonfuls, for fear—! But there’s the cutest little cottage waiting for my word—waiting for us—right on Prescott Street, too! What do you think of that? Yes, I can afford it! You needn’t worry! Don’t stop to finish up your engagement! They’ll let you off—they’ve got to! It seems as if I couldn’t wait to have you in my arms again! I know you will want to work till you have enough for the baby’s stone; but just let me attend to that! I’ll save every spare cent till we have it. At last I’ve come to the place where you can stop work and rely on me. Only Heaven and I know how I have looked forward to this day—it has been long in coming! But I won’t think about the past. Now you can rest! How I have rebelled at being obliged to let you go on the stage again! We’ll hope that is all over. Don’t wait for anything, but take the first train west!
I met Nora and Louis this morning. They had heard of my good luck, and were full of congratulations, and, of course, wild to see you. It is almost time for rehearsal, and I must say good-bye. Come just as soon as you can pack up, Kitty darling! Send a card ahead if there’s time—anyway I’ll meet the next train.
Good-bye—wish you were right here where I shouldn’t have to say it! How could I ever have let you go! Your own
Jim.
Mrs. Stickney sighed as she folded the sheet. “It sounds just like Jim,” she declared. “He hadn’t changed a mite. If I could only have seen him once more—or even heard about him! I shall never get over it!”
Later, after a little talk, it was decided to say nothing concerning the trunk or its contents. The family shrank from the wonderment of their neighbors and the inevitable questions that would follow the disclosure. So The Flatiron never knew what a tidbit of gossip had been missed.
For a while Doodles could not be coaxed to try his precious fiddle. He felt that the man with the ferret eyes had ears to match, and who knew how near he might be lurking? But as the days passed, and he was seen no more, the small boy gained courage, until finally his desire conquered his fear, and, one stormy evening, he began to play.
Mrs. Stickney, not having heard the assurance of the giver, and her opinion being unconsciously colored by Mr. Somerby’s comments, was not prepared for the exceeding richness of the tones that Doodles brought from the instrument.