“My first meeting with the Herr Professor will be within the next few days, and I am looking eagerly forward to the time. Aunt Betty says he has the dearest sort of a studio in a quiet part of the city, where he puts his pupils through a course of sprouts and brings out all the latent energy—or, temperament, I suppose you would call it.
“Well, Molly, dear, you must admit that this is a long letter for my first day home, especially when I am tired from the journey, and have stopped my dressing to write you. So don’t disappoint me, but write—or wire—that you are starting at once. Tell the dear Judge we hope his health has improved to such an extent that you will be free from all worry in the future. Remember us to your aunt, and don’t forget that your welcome at old Bellvieu is as everlasting as the days are long.
“Ever your affectionate
“Dorothy.”
“There! I guess if that don’t bring Miss Molly Breckenridge to time, nothing will.”
Dorothy put the letter in a dainty, scented envelope, stamped and addressed it, and laid it on her dresser where she would be sure to carry it down to Ephraim when she had dressed.
An hour later, when the declining sun had disappeared behind the big hedge to the west of Bellvieu, and the lawn was filled with cool, deep shadows, Dorothy and Aunt Betty settled themselves in the open air for another chat.