Carolyn half rose from the table, then she sat down, for she saw the servant was coming to her.
To these people a telegram was little different from an ordinary note. Everybody telegraphed about everything. Notwithstanding this, the girl could not keep her hand quite steady as she tore open the cover.
Her mother watched her face; she was still thinking of her dream.
Immediately Carolyn began to smile. She read aloud:
"Please send your wheel over to station for 11.40 train.
"Prudence Ffolliott."
The elder woman stirred her coffee desperately. "She isn't drowned, then," she said.
"Apparently not, since she wants my wheel."
"Shall you send it?"
"Yes."
"Sha'n't you drive over to meet her?"