"My dear little Daughter,—
"Three days have passed since you left us, and I am glad to be able to tell you that your mother is better—a few days more and her poor nerves will have begun to strengthen, then for a holiday for us all somewhere in the lovely country. Ned is a good boy, and nurse is very proud of Baby, who grows to look, so she says, more and more like the sixth Earl of Roslyn. What a comical, pink, squirming little earl he must have been, mustn't he? Alice is enjoying herself very much; she has won a prize in a tennis tournament at Lake Hopatcong, and has been to three parties. You can see what you have to look forward to when you are a young lady of fifteen! Your dear mother sends love and kisses, and says, 'Tell my little girl to be gentle and good.' And I add, try to do as your aunts wish in everything; even though their way may differ from your mother's way. Different people, different ways, you know, dear. With love to our little girl, and compliments to the aunties, I am,
"Your loving father,
"Edward Walcott."
"New York, Aug. 10, 1900."
"It doesn't seem right for father to think he is writing to one when he's writing to the other!" thought Gay. "Still, we're really the same as one, and now that mother is better we can soon tell and then it will be all right. I'm tired of it and I'm ashamed to have father and mother and everybody trusting me when I'm a fraud, besides, I'm tearing May's clothes all to pieces and I shall have to tell pretty soon, or go to bed."
The letter had a good effect, however, for Gay really tried to be "gentle and good." He behaved with such propriety that the poor deluded aunts were in raptures.
"She can be charming when she likes," Miss Linn said.
"I don't condemn her conduct yesterday; it was incomprehensible, but what a brave little thing she is! I'm sure the doctor admires her," Miss Celia said proudly.