"They'll be as funny in their war-paint, hunting culture, as we've been carrying around the wisdom that was to die with us!"
And all the while during this afternoon a note lay in Selina's pocket-book, along with that telegram, a note written on French gray paper, embossed and monogrammed The postman had handed it to her at her gate and she had read it on the way here. The contents came back to her as later, after sending the telegram she walked home in company with Maud and Adele.
My dear Selina, I am going as usual to my cottage at the Virginia springs about the middle of June. Bereft of companionship by the marriage of the last daughter in our family, it occurs to me to wonder if you will come and be my guest for July? Tuttle's vacation will lend him to us for part of that time. I need hardly say that he adds his entreaties to mine.
Affectionately and sincerely yours,
Alicia Tuttle Jones.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Selina, reaching home a bit before dinner, read and re-read her note from Mrs. Jones. The springs in Virginia! She felt she knew all that this meant, and knew, too, what it would mean to be the young guest of Mrs. Samuel Jones at her cottage at these springs!
After dinner, for some reason she couldn't define, she took the note, not to her mother, but her father. He was alone downstairs with his paper. He looked worn and tired, even a bit broken and haggard. Standing by his chair while he read the letter, she slipped an arm about his shoulders, though again she could not have explained why. His free hand went up, sought her hand there on his shoulder and closed on it.