Nan stood looking thoughtfully out of the open library window. “I would rather be independent,” she declared. Then, noting her friend’s dismal expression, she laughingly caught her hands as she said, “Well, we won’t decide the matter, now. I’ll talk it over with Aunt Dahlia when she comes.”
The two girls spent a happy morning together and in the afternoon Nan said, “I wonder why Aunt Dahlia and Aunt Ursula do not come. They wrote that they would be here early and take us both for a long drive.”
Another half hour passed and then there was a knock at the door.
Nan sprang up joyously. “It’s Marie to tell me that my dear aunts have arrived.”
It was indeed Marie, who held out a yellow envelope as she said, “This telegram just came, Miss Anne. Mrs. Dorsey isn’t in, so I thought I’d better bring it right up to you.”
When the door had again closed, Nan turned toward her friend with startled eyes.
“Oh Phyllis,” she said fearfully, “do you suppose that Aunt Dahlia is ill?” Then, tearing open the yellow envelope, the two girls read the few words that the message contained. “Miss Ursula Barrington died last night. Miss Dahlia wishes you to come at once.” The signature was that of a stranger.
“Aunt Ursula dead!” Nan repeated in dazed uncomprehension. “It can’t be. It must be a mistake, for only day before yesterday I received a long letter from her and she wrote that she was feeling unusually well.”
“I fear that it cannot be a mistake,” her friend said tenderly, “but you must be brave and strong, Nan, for your Aunt Dahlia will need you to comfort her.”
“You are right, Phyllis, I will go to her at once. Have I time to get the three o’clock train?”