“That little study isn’t deserving of such glowing words,” she said to herself. “Now I must see what my other childie has to say. Their letters are growing more similar. Catherine’s association with other girls is giving her a more open manner, and Hannah is growing a bit more mature. Still,–” her eyes fell upon the wild slant of the writing before her, “I suspect she never will be quite grown up, and this particular time she doesn’t show the maturity alarmingly! This letter looks as excited as the one she wrote from Dexter when she was upset about sororities last year.”
106“Darling Lady Love of Mine:
“Are you in Ventnor still? Shall you be there the 23d? I don’t know what I shall do, if you leave the Isle of Wight before the 27th. I wanted to cable, but father thought it was unnecessary and of course I couldn’t afford to do it on my own account. They charge terribly for cabling. And this letter may not reach you till you are gone, or they are. O dear! It just worries me to death to think about it. And there you are so near and I have wanted you and Frieda to meet so long. You may even be passing each other on the street or somewhere and not recognizing each other. Have you seen her? You’d surely know her, if you stopped to think, for Mother always said she looks like Mona Lisa and you’d notice Mona Lisa if you saw her. Even if she did have on a sailor suit too big for her, and a funny soup-bowl hat. Only perhaps she doesn’t wear such things now. It’s two years since I saw her, almost, that is, and I don’t know how she dresses.
“Aunt Clara! I was just going to sign my name and read this over and I haven’t told you what I was writing for at all. You will think me a dreadful rattlebrain! It’s just that we got a post card to-day from the Langes saying that they were on the Isle of Wight for several days, and I thought right away that you simply must meet them. It’s such a little island! They wrote from Ryde. 107 O, I’ll enclose the postal. It will tell you all about where they are to be, and you will try your very hardest to see them, won’t you? You couldn’t help loving them, every one, dear Frau Marie and the funny Herr Professor. And nothing is far in England.
“Your loving loving Hannah.”
“P. S. I wrote Frieda to look for you.”
The blue eyes were full of laughter this time.
“Rattlebrain! I should say so. And of course,–yes, she did forget to enclose the postal. It’s a wonder she didn’t cable. Now here am I, exhorted to meet three German people of whom I know these facts: Professor Lange of Berlin, the Frau Professor and their daughter Frieda, who looks like Mona Lisa and–perhaps–wears sailor suits too large for her and a funny soup-bowl hat. Were in Ryde some time ago, and, I judge, expected to be on the Isle until the 27th. To-day is the 26th. Well, I’m afraid, Hannah dear, you’ll have to learn to keep your head a little better, when you wish to carry out your pleasant ideas. I wonder what she wrote to Frieda.”
She rose from her seat on the ivy-covered grass, and strolled leisurely back toward her hotel. The afternoon light was low and the little church she passed on her way seemed more than usually quaint 108 and inviting. Half-way by, she turned irresolutely, then entered the churchyard.
A local guide was showing a party of tourists about.