“Hush, dear Letty—dear little girl,” whispered Mrs. Hartwell-Jones tenderly. “An accident is always likely to happen in such a life—so filled with risks and dangers. And think how very much more terrible it would have been if it had happened far off—away from you.”
Letty was soon comforted and dried her eyes with a little sigh.
“But there is one person I can tell my happiness to,” she said after rather a long silence, “if I may? It is Emma Haines, the little girl I told you about that lived next door when we had rooms in South Front Street. I should so like her to know! May I write to her? She lives in New Jersey now, she and her mother and Tottie. Such a cunning baby Tottie was.”
“By all means write to her at once,” consented Mrs. Hartwell-Jones cordially. “And when we get settled at home in town, you may invite her over to see you, if you like.”
Letty would have liked to take Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s “at once” literally. Indeed, she had already jumped up from her stool and crossed to the writing-desk, when Christopher appeared at the open door and beckoned to her eagerly. The little conversation had taken place in Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s room at Sunnycrest, and Christopher’s interruption was not a surprise, as the twins gave Letty very little time to herself.
After Letty had run off to join the children, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones sat lost in thought, considering seriously an idea that had come to her that morning, suggested by the letter she had received from her lawyer. Presently she went to consult Grandmother Baker, as she generally did upon nearly all matters nowadays. She found her in her own room, going over the week’s mending.
“Mrs. Baker, I am thinking of taking a short journey,” she began. “But you are busy, I see. I am afraid I shall disturb you.”
Grandmother hastened to assure her that she was not interrupting.
“Indeed, it will help me very much to be talked to,” she replied. “It will help me to keep my mind off the terrific size of the holes in Kit’s stockings. Just look at this!” And she held up a long brown stocking with a great gaping tear in the knee. “You say you think of taking a short journey,” she exclaimed in surprise. “You don’t think of leaving us before the end of your visit, I hope?” she added anxiously.
“Only for two days, if you will excuse us. I think of taking Letty with me. But I would like your opinion; whether you think it would please and interest Letty, or only distress her with sad memories.”