You always were the most impractical man about money I ever knew. I shall do as I please with my own.
Yours truly,
Rich. Romaine.
“Most curt and unhandsome,” cried the Colonel, flushing angrily. “What does he take me for? I shall at once express my sentiments in writing regarding this extraordinary communication from Romaine.”
“No, grandpapa,” cried Letty, who agreed with the Colonel in thinking Mr. Romaine’s letter extremely impertinent, “I’ll answer it.”
Once in a while Letty had her way, and this was one of the occasions. She sat down at the library table, and, with the angry blood mantling her face, dashed off the following to Mr. Romaine.
“Just listen to this, if you please,” she cried, flourishing her pen in dangerous proximity to the Colonel’s nose. “I think Mr. Romaine will find that he has got a Roland for his Oliver.”
Then, in a melodramatic voice, she read:
My Dear Mr. Romaine:
As you say, you have a right to do as you please with your own. This personal liberty pertaining to you likewise pertains to me—and I decline positively to be benefited against my will. I will not have your money. Pardon me if I have copied your own brevity and positiveness in settling this question. I am,
Very truly yours,
Letty Corbin.