Charlotte came in from her room brushing out her hair, and Ina was reading her letter. She looked up with a blushing confusion and crumpled the paper involuntarily.
“Oh, you needn't start so,” said Charlotte. “I know whom the letter is from. It's that old Major Arms.”
“He is not old. He is no older than papa, and you don't call him old,” Ina retorted, resentfully.
“I don't call him old for a father, but I would for—”
“Well, he isn't a—yet.”
“Ina, you ought to tell me.”
“Well, I'm going to marry Major Arms, so there!”
“Oh, Ina!”
The two girls stood staring at each other for a moment, then they ran to each other. “Oh, Charlotte! oh, Charlotte!” sobbed Ina, convulsively.
“Oh, Ina! oh, honey!”