"And now I must say good-by, for I am getting tired and must rest. I was at the cottage this morning, and Harold is coming here this afternoon to read Tennyson's 'May Queen' to me. He has read it a dozen times, but I am never tired of it, although it makes me cry to think of that grave in the long grass, with little Alice in it, cold and dead, listening for those she loved to come and weep over her. You know, she says to her mother:
"'I shall hear you when you pass,
With your feet above me, in the long and pleasant grass.'
"Oh, Jerrie, if it should be—you know what I mean; if there should come a time when people say to each other, 'Maude Tracy is dead!' you'll come often, won't you, and think of me always as the friend, who, weak and stupid as she was, loved you dearly—dearly.
"Now, good-by again. Harold has just come in, and says, 'Remember me to Jerrie, and tell her I shall hope to see her graduated, but do not know, I am so busy.'
"Truly and lovingly,
"Maude Tracy."
"P.S.—Tom has come in, and says, 'Give my love to Jerrie.'
"P.S. No. 2.—Dick St. Claire and Fred Raymond are here, and both send their regards.
"P.S. No. 3.—If you will believe me, Billy Peterkin is here, nibbling his little cane, and says, 'Present my compliments to Miss Crawford.'
"Just think of it. Five, or, rather, four young men—for Tom don't count—for me to entertain. But I can do it, and rather like it, too, though they all tire me, except Harold."