Kathleen unfolded it, and made Philippa come quite close to her.
'I don't want to speak loud,' she said. 'I don't care for the other girls to hear.'
'My dear Neville,'
the letter began,
'I am very glad you wrote to me. I have thought a great deal about you and dear Kathleen since the terrible disappointment which you heard all about from your father. It is very sad for both of you, and perhaps especially so for Kathleen, to be so long separated from your dear parents, and to have now—alas!—such a very uncertain prospect of seeing them again for long. I had already been considering if it would not be possible for you both to spend your next holidays with me here. Mr. Wynne-Carr has—I suppose I must say kindly, but I think you are old enough to understand that it is difficult for me to feel grateful under the circumstances—given me leave to stay here till October, when I must go I know not where. But I am very poor. I have for the time a house in which to receive you, but that is about all. All the servants are dismissed already, except old Martha. And I am obliged to live in the simplest way. Then, again, I had a feeling that it would be painful and tantalising for you to come here, and to get to know and love the dear old place which should have been by now your own home. I should like you and little Kathleen'—
'Little Kathleen, indeed!' said Kathie, with a snort.
'to think it over'—
'Yes; that's sensible of her, isn't it?'
'and to let me know what you feel about it before I do anything in the matter. I am quite sure your dear papa and mamma'—
'Did you ever see such a lot of "dears" as she sticks in? I'm afraid she must be rather a kissey-cry-ey sort of person, Phil.'