While Virginia had been talking, she had opened the tinted envelope. One glance at the very short note and her merry laughter pealed forth.
“Brother, Margaret actually refuses to come. Well, we surely may thank whatever kindly fate has delivered us from having this young tornado in our home.” Virginia handed the letter to Malcolm as she spoke.
The other long white envelope she glanced at casually, and, believing it to be the usual monthly report from their lawyer’s office, she did not open it, but waving farewell to her brother, who had again vaulted the bars, Virginia returned to the house and to her morning tasks.
It was half an hour later before she recalled the long legal looking envelope.
“I might as well skim it over,” she thought, “and then I can tell Malcolm about it and he will not need to take the time to read it.”
Dropping down into a comfortable cushioned wicker chair out on the veranda, Virginia leisurely opened it. Her thoughts were wandering when she began to read, but suddenly she sat erect and stared at the typed page. Then she re-read it slowly from the beginning to be sure that she had really understood its purport.
Shags, the big collie dog, lying nearby, half dozing in the sun was startled to see his mistress leap to her feet and tear madly down the trail toward the corral. Believing that he might miss something of unusual interest if he did not follow, he raced after, barking and bounding.
Malcolm looked up in surprise. “Ho Sis,” he called, “had you overlooked a postscript in our ward’s letter? Is she coming after all?”
Then noting how pale was his sister’s face, he hastened to her side. “It’s a letter from Mr. Benton, our father’s lawyer. I don’t understand business matters as you do, and perhaps I do not rightly comprehend the meaning of this. I sincerely hope I do not.”
But Virginia had rightly understood. Mr. Denton, their lawyer in Douglas had written: