The letter read:
“I understand you are going West in your automobile. If, on your journey, you should by chance hear the name of ‘Hawkes,’ do not treat it as lightly as you did in West Haven. Somewhere in the West that name is powerful.
“Anna Hawkes.”
“How absurd!” exclaimed Elinor. “She is queer. I am certain of it.”
“Anyhow,” pursued Billie, “I am ashamed of what we did now. I suppose it must have hurt her awfully.”
“Not more than she hurt us when she scolded us for forgetting those awful dates,” said Nancy relentlessly.
“Oh, well,” put in Miss Campbell, “she is just an angry old spinster who got obsessed with dates and then had a rude awakening. I don’t think it was exactly respectful to have given the lady a box of dried dates. But she brought it on herself, as you say. Tear up the letter and forget all about it. I have no doubt she is a perfectly harmless old person.”
Miss Campbell always had a secret contempt for other spinsters.
“But she isn’t old, you know, cousin. She’s just out of college.”
“Oh, indeed. I imagined she was a crusty old maid.”