"Well, of all things! How did they hear of me?"
Eleanor half turned around and asked: "What's the matter?"
"Mother inclosed a letter that came from New York. She thought it might be important, so she slipped it inside the one she was just going to mail to me," murmured Anne, vaguely, studying the dense forest as they drove past.
"Well, that's nothing to wonder about," said Eleanor.
Anne glanced at the letter again: "No, but the contents is."
"Maybe it's one of those proposals of marriage—you know; the kind where a lonely bachelor, rich, well-bred, perfect in every respect (except his bald head, glass eye, toothless gums, and palsy) wishes acquaintance with sweet young miss—object matrimony!" Eleanor said, jokingly.
"Eleanor Maynard! How very unladylike of you!" cried her sister, shocked at her levity.
"I'm only saying what you can read in the paper any day," argued Eleanor, still laughing at her joke.
"This is a proposal, but not that kind. It comes from a well-known gentleman in New York City," said Anne.
Polly was so astonished that she pulled in the horses and suddenly halted them without being aware of it. Eleanor and she turned square about and gazed at Anne questioningly. Barbara couldn't say anything as she was at sea for words.