She caressed the paper that had rendered the world such a goodly place
to live in--caressed it tenderly and rubbed her check against it. That
was Margaret's way of showing affection, you know; and I protest it
must have been very pleasant for the paper. The only wonder was that
the ink it was written in didn't turn red with delight.
Then she read it through again, for sheer enjoyment of those
beautiful, incomprehensible words that disinherited her. How
lovely
of Uncle Fred! she thought. Of course, he'd forgiven Billy; who
wouldn't? What beautiful language Uncle Fred used! quite prayer-booky,