"Wise lady, how did you grow so old in so short a time?"
"By working and reading, and thinking—and suffering, I suppose."
"When you're well, dear, I'm going to try to give you some of the girlhood you've never had. You're entitled to pretty gowns and parties and beaux, and all the other things that belong to the teens and twenties. You're coming to town with me, I hope—that's why I'm staying."
Barbara's blue eyes filled and threatened to overflow. "Oh, Fairy Godmother, how lovely it would be. But I can't go. I must stay here and sew and try to make up for lost time. Besides, father would miss me so."
Wait and See
Eloise only smiled, for she had plans of her own for father. "We won't argue," she said, lightly, "we'll wait and see. It's a great mistake to try to live to-morrow, or even yesterday, to-day."
When Eloise went back to the hotel, her generous heart full of plans for her protégé, Miriam did not hear her go out, and so it happened that Barbara was alone for some time. Ambrose North had gone for one of his long walks over the hills and along the shore, expecting to return before Eloise left Barbara. For some vague reason which he himself could not have put into words, he did not like to leave her alone with Miriam.
When Miriam came upstairs, she paused at the door to listen. Hearing no voices, she peeped within. Barbara lay quietly, looking out of the window, and dreaming of the day when she could walk freely and joyously, as did the people who passed and repassed.
Miriam went stealthily to her own room, and took out the letter to Barbara. She had no curiosity as to its contents. If she had, it would be an easy matter to open it, and put it into another envelope, without the address, and explain that it had been merely enclosed with instructions as to its delivery.
Miriam Delivers the Letter