CHAPTER XXXIII
HESTER CRAIGMILE RECEIVES HER LETTER
The letters reached their opposite destinations at about the same time. The one to Amalia closely buttoned in Larry’s pocket, and the short one to himself which he read and reread as his horse slowly climbed the trail, were halfway up the mountain when the postboy delivered Hester Craigmile’s at the door of the sedate brick house belonging to the Craigmiles of Aberdeen.
Peter Junior’s mother and two elderly women––his grandaunts––were seated in the dignified parlor, taking afternoon tea, when the housemaid brought Hester her letter.
“Is it from Peter, maybe?” asked the elder of the two aunts.
“No, Aunt Ellen; I think it is from a friend.”
“It’s strange now, that Peter’s no written before this,” said the younger, leaning forward eagerly. “Will ye read it, dear? We’ll be wantin’ to know if there’s ae word about him intil’t.”
“There may be, Aunt Jean.” Hester set her cup of tea down untasted, and began to open her letter.
“But tak’ yer tea first, Hester. Jean’s an impatient body. That’s too bad of ye, Jean; her toast’s gettin’ cold.”