If on thinking over my suggestion, you are agreed, I will send you a draft for a thousand dollars. As nearly as I can find out, five hundred will take a girl through a school such as we should choose for Hilary in comfort, if not in luxury. But if it takes more, you can begin on the second five hundred and I will make up the difference when the time comes.
I hope Max will let me do this. It will be such a pleasure. I can not tell you how proud I am of Hilary, the dear, bright child! Please decide soon, and if favorably we can send for catalogues and have all sorts of nice times getting her ready to go. Applications ought to be in early at any school. I know pretty well what Hilary likes, so I am going to begin picking up pretty things for her outfit.
If Hilary does not like the plan,—well, no “ifs,”—I shall be anxiously waiting your decision.
Lovingly your sister,
Hilary Garland.
Dr. Lancaster put down the letter and looked at his wife. “What do you think of it?”
“I scarcely know. I was afraid you might feel a little annoyed, yet Hilary Senior is always just so enthusiastic over what she wants to do for her namesake.”
“No; I understand your sister. Her motives are of the best. We shall only consider what is best for the child.”
At noon Hilary telephoned that she would not be home, for “they” were practicing the Commencement music and one of the girls whose accompaniment she was to play lived near the school building and had invited her there for lunch.
At the Lancaster’s supper hour Hilary had not arrived, but came in before the family had left the table. “Excuse me, folks,” she said, as she sat down, unfolded her napkin, and leaned back in her chair in an attitude of pretended collapse.