“The day we left New York, so you see, you really can’t do anything about it,” Checkers continued politely.
Aunt turned purple. “I don’t believe a word of it, and I shall not countenance it,” whereupon she stamped her foot. And that’s the situation now, dear.
A. D. TO POLLY
Washington,
May.
Behold me, dear, on my native soil, hungrily awaiting a love letter from you, even though I am a little ahead of my schedule. I didn’t cable, in order to surprise you, but nevertheless I hoped you might guess the steamer from my letters. Father was on hand to greet me but I was disappointed when I dashed up the gang plank not to see you on the wharf and later to learn from your butler at the house you were still hundreds of miles away. Then I came on to Washington at once to report. All, everybody—customs-officers, collectors, bank-cashiers, down to the smallest clerk in the Department, when I told them the news, congratulated me heartily and added good wishes till I was as happy as I could possibly be without you.
As soon as I hear you have arrived I will take the train to New York and go to the Waldorf. Almost a year ago we began to love each other, though the world did not know, and we kept our secret to ourselves. Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. Aunt will have to come round.
POLLY TO A. D.