Mrs. Douglas looks a little startled just for a moment. Then she smiles sweetly.
"I am a bad hand at guessing, love. Pray tell me, if it is of any importance."
Lauraine looks full at her, still holding the letter in her hand. "It is from—Keith," she says calmly.
"From Mr. Athelstone!" remarks Mrs. Douglas calmly, but a little nervous agitation is visible on her face. "Dear me! I thought he had long forgotten us!"
"So did I," answers Lauraine, glancing for an instant at the superscription.
"But he has not. You never told me that he had written to you, mamma, three months ago."
"To me! Did he really?" and Mrs. Douglas colours ever so little. "I forgot all about it. Yes, now you mention it, he did write me—some nonsense about his prospects, and how they were improving. Nothing to interest me, or you either. I think you were away."
"I was not away at the time," says Lauraine quietly; "and any news from Keith would have interested me. But I suppose you thought it best to—forget."
Mrs. Douglas looks slightly uncomfortable. "Dear me, Lauraine," she says pettishly, "what are you making such a fuss for? Keith was a very nice boy, and all that; but you are both grown up now, and that brother-and-sister business couldn't go on for ever. What does he say in that letter? Is he still in Chicago?"
"He is in England," answers Lauraine, still very quietly; "and he has been left an immense fortune by some rich, eccentric old Yankee, who took a great fancy to him. Also, he is coming here this morning to call on us. He is anxious to see me after four years' absence."