"'Bostwick Unthank,
Attorney and Counsellor-at-law,
Jonesville, Florida.
"'My dear Miss Merryvale——'"
"How strange it seems," Miss Patty interpolated, "to have him address me in that formal way."
"It's a business letter," the reader explained.
"I know that," Miss Patty said tartly, "otherwise I should not have given it to you to read."
"'My dear Miss Merryvale,'" Miss Witherspoon began again, "'I am inclosing a letter to your maid, Hertha Williams, retailing to her an extraordinary piece of news. George Ogilvie, whom you will remember, I am sure, has died and in his will he leaves a small legacy to a granddaughter, Hertha Williams, the illegitimate child of his daughter Lillias who died two days after its birth. The birth was successfully concealed by placing the infant with a colored family. Evidently Ogilvie, at the last, felt unable to keep the secret for he leaves an account of the extraordinary proceeding, recognizes his granddaughter, and asks that she take the family name. It is likely to be a great shock to the young woman and I am inclosing the firm's letter to your care, knowing that you will understand in your great kindness how best to break the news.
"'Believe me, Madam, with esteem,
"'Your obedient servant,
"'Bostwick Unthank.'"
As Miss Witherspoon put down the letter and looked at her hostess's shaking head she wondered whether the lawyer had made a careful choice in his method of relating the story to Hertha; and she resolved to take a part herself, if advisable, in the breaking of the news. While extraordinary, it was tidings that a colored girl might easily bear. Two legacies, one of money, one of race, were wonderful gifts. "Where is Hertha?" she asked.
"Ellen stopped in this morning to say that she had been awake with a bad headache and had then overslept. The dear child, she should have all her strength for this news."