CHAPTER XII
A SILVER-HAIRED LADY
"The package will keep—though I'm dying to know what is in it—but I must read this letter from my darling G——May, if you will excuse me." And May broke the seal of the dearly-loved brother's letter and began to read before the General could say a word.
It was a characteristic letter; as she read May seemed to see the writer dancing around the room like a will-o'-the-wisp, and speaking the written words without waiting for answer or comment.
"Dear Brownie," the letter began, "It is very Hard to be a girl. I try, but I forget and act just like a boy. But noBody seems to know—isn't it Queer? I hope you are getting along better, but it is real easy to act like a Boy; all you have to do is to Act Natcherul. I cut my foot chopping wood. Margery, a very nice woman that lives here made me a little wee peach dumpling and I had all the saurse I wanted. I can have coffee for breakfast if I want it—can you? Aunt Beulah has little white curls and they bob up and down when she talks. I would like to pull one to see if it would come off like nurse's braid. You always think you've done something wrong when Aunt Beulah looks at you—at least I do, but I've been doing it ever since I came, doing wrong for a girl, I mean, not for a boy, for I've only acted like myself. John is a very nice man. He was in the War. He is one of the nicest men I Have ever Met. He has a scar on his cheek, a soldier did it for him in the War. He has a splendid nephew Patsey and I have seen him. His Muscle is immense. John lets me feed the cows and to-morrow if I am well I shall feed the pigs, but I may have the lockjaw. People do that are wounded. There is a pond here. I have not seen it, but my friend John says so. There are lilies in it and a boy, they think, for he never came up. I open my mouth often to see if it will work, and I haven't the Lockjaw yet. Aunt Celia gave me a photograph for you and one for me. I mailed yours. She is a lovely woman, all smiles and a soft voice. I liker best. She isn't so Terryfying. I haven't seen a Boy, but there are some here, for John says they come to hook the pears. They are not vagrums, he says, only mischievus. If I catch them they'll wish They Hadn't Come. They can have all the pears they want if they ask, but they are 'Pirates,' John says. Your affectionate Gay."
"Oh!" sighed May, "Brown's foot is cut with an ax; he may have lockjaw."
"Who's Brown?"
"My twin bro—my twin, I mean. Uncle George calls him Brown and me Brownie because we're both brown, do you see?"
"Perfectly," remarked the General, who couldn't see at all.
"This," said May, undoing the package, "is Aunt Celia's photograph. She gave it to me. Brown says she's lovely—and so she is. She doesn't look a bit 'terrifying,' does she?"