Send me anything more, at any time, to give me an idea of the delightful things you are doing. I shall be proud if you honor me with an occasional letter. Pray give my regards to your mother, whom I envy, and all the "stormy petrels," whom I envy too.
Believe me, dear Miss Nancy,
Yours sincerely,
LEMUEL HAMILTON.
"I can't remember why I told him about Mother Carey's chickens," said Nancy reflectively. "It just seemed to come in naturally. The Yellow Peril must be rather nice, as well as his father, even if he is our enemy. That was clever of him, putting his grandmother in the brick oven!" And here Nancy laughed, and laughed again, thinking how her last remark would sound if overheard by a person unacquainted with the circumstances.
"A delightful, warm, kind, friendly letter," said Mother Carey, folding it with a caressing hand. "I wish your father could have read it."
"He doesn't say a word about his children," and Nancy took the sheets and scanned them again.
"You evidently gave him the history of your whole family, but he confines himself to his own life."
"He mentions 'my son Tom' frequently enough, but there's not a word of
Mrs. Hamilton."
"No, but there's no reason there should be, especially!"