“Aunt Maria was greatly disappointed when I returned here without you, she had quite made up her mind that you were coming back with me. We both lost our temper that day, but I was the worse, for I said a word I shouldn’t have said, and for which I apologise. Aunt Maria says it was the Pinckney temper. However that may be, we shall be delighted to see you. Mrs. Van Dusen leaves on the 6th of next month. I am sending all particulars to Mr. Hennessey. You could meet Mrs. Van Dusen at Liverpool and go with her as far as New York. Let me have a cable to know if you are coming. Pinckney, Vernons, Charleston, U. S. A., is the cable address.
“Your affectionate guardian—also cousin—
“R. Pinckney.”
Then underneath, in an angular, old-fashioned hand, one of those handwritings we associate with crossed letters, rosewood desks, valentines and wafers:
“Be sure to come. I am very anxious to see you, and I only hope you will like me as much as I am sure to like you.
“Maria Pinckney.”
Phyl caught her breath back when she read this and her eyes filled with tears. It was the woman’s voice that touched her, coming after Pinckney’s business-like and jerky sentences.
Then she sat with the letter before her, looking at the new prospect it had opened for her.
Was Pinckney still angry, despite his talk about the Pinckney temper; had he written not of his own free will but at the desire of Maria Pinckney? She read the thing over again without finding any solution to this question.
But one fact was clear. Maria Pinckney was genuine in her invitation.