"Did you bring a letter from him?" inquired his mother, eagerly.
"Yes," said Marjorie, disappointedly, "but I wanted to keep it until the last thing. I wanted you to have the best last."
"If I ever do get the best it will be last!" said the subdued, sad voice.
"Then you shall have this first," returned the bright, childish voice.
But her watchful eyes had detected a stitch dropped in grandmother's work and that must be attended to first. The old lady gave up her work willingly and laid her head back to rest while Marjorie knit once around. And then the short letter was twice read aloud and every sentence discussed.
"If I ever wrote to him I suppose he'd write to me oftener," said his mother, "but I can't get my hands into shape for fine sewing or for writing. I'd rather do a week's washing than write a letter."
Marjorie laughed and said she could write letters all day.
"I think Miss Prudence is very kind to you girls," said Mrs. Rheid. "Is she a relation?"
"Not a real one," admitted Marjorie, reluctantly.
"There must be some reason for her taking to you and for your mother letting you go. Your mother has the real New England grit and she's proud enough. Depend upon it, there's a reason."