"I did. And for good reasons. I don't tell my reasons. Go to bed!"
"When did you tell him?"
"This morning after I left you. /Are/ you going to bed?"
"I don't see what you told him for. I don't like my grandfathers. I can't imagine—"
"There are many things you can't imagine, and more you don't understand. /Go to bed!/"
In her room Mary Cary stood before the tall, old-fashioned bureau, with its small swinging glass, and brushed her hair mechanically and with thoughts afar off; then putting down her brush laid it on a letter she had not seen before.
"Why, it's John's!" she said. "I wonder how it got here?" She held it up, then put it back again. "It must have come on the last mail and Hedwig brought it in. Silly!"
She braided her hair slowly, tied on its ribbons, then knelt by the big tester bed to say her prayers. Her face rested sideways on the open palms of her hands, crossed one on the other, and her eyes closed sleepily.
"I'm too tired to read it to-night, and to-morrow I will be too busy. But I'm glad it's here. In case of trouble—or anything, John is such— a sure help."