“Mrs. T., you don’t understand business. When you talk in that way you only make yourself ridiculous. You’d better leave me to attend to business, and you look after the housekeeping,” and he turned to his daughter for approval.
“You are right, pa,” said Sophia, “and Mrs. Tarbox, though she means well, shows that she doesn’t understand business.”
Mrs. Tarbox bit her lip, but did not reply. She had made the discovery long since that the daughter was as cold and selfish as the father, and probably even more so.
“Mrs. Tarbox, have you got Grant’s last letter?” asked Rodney.
“Yes.”
“Would you mind letting me read it?”
Mrs. Tarbox hesitated a moment, and then replied: “A part of it is private, but I will read you the part in which he speaks of his position and prospects.”
“Thank you. I would like to hear it.”
Mrs. Tarbox took from her pocket a letter which she had perused half a dozen times already, and read as follows:
“Well, mother, I have at last reached California. It is a long and tiresome journey across the plains. I hope, when I go back, I shall be able to go by steamer to New York. However, I made some pleasant friends on the way, and I have good courage, though my money is nearly out.”