Leila still hesitated. Usually Ann Penhallow carried away John's rare letters to be read when alone. Now she said, with unnatural deliberation. "Read it; one may as well hear his news; we can't always just ignore what goes on."
Leila a little puzzled glanced at her aunt. The Squire pleased and astonished said, "Go on, my dear."
Turning to the candles on the hall table, Leila read the letter:—"Why how long it has been! It is dated November 20th."
"DEAR LEILA: We have been moving from place to place, and although I know or guess why, it is best left out of letters. At Belmont General Grant had a narrow escape from capture. He was the last man on board the boat. He is a slightly built, grave, tired-looking man, middle-aged, carelessly dressed and eternally smoking. I was in the thick of the row—a sort of aide, as there was no engineer work. He was as cool as a cucumber—"
"Why are cucumbers cool?" asked Leila, looking up. "Oh, bother! Go on!" said Penhallow.
"We shall move soon. Good-bye.
"JOHN PENHALLOW."
Ann made no comment. The Squire said, "It might have been longer. Come, there's dinner, and I am hungry."
Ann looked at him. He was gay, and laughed at her account of Rivers's disaster.
"I have some good news for you, Ann. I shall keep it until after dinner.
Then we can talk it over at leisure. It concerns all of us, even John."