"Rather a crooked one," conceded Linnet, "but it will have to do."
"Suppose you try a dozen times and they all come different," suggested practical Marjorie.
"That proves it's all nonsense," answered her mother.
"And suppose you don't marry anybody," Marjorie continued, spoiling Linnet's romance, "some letter, or something like a letter has to come, and then what of it?"
"Oh, it's only fun," explained Linnet.
"I don't want to know about my S" confessed Marjorie. "I'd rather wait and find out. I want my life to be like a story-book and have surprises in the next chapter."
"It's sure to have that," said her mother. "We mustn't try to find out what is hidden. We mustn't meddle with our lives, either. Hurry providence, as somebody says in a book."
"And we can't ask anybody but God," said Marjorie, "because nobody else knows. He could make any letter come that he wanted to."
"He will not tell us anything that way," returned her mother.
"I don't want him to," said Marjorie.