Randy threw an acorn at her. "Nobody can hold you back, Mother," he said, "when you get
your mind on a thing. Aunt Claudia, what do you hear from Truxton?"
"A letter came this morning," said Mrs. Beaufort, lighting up with the thought of it. "I hadn't heard for days before that. And I was worried."
"Truxton hasn't killed himself writing letters since he went over," the Judge asserted. "Claudia, can't we have lunch?"
"William is unpacking the hamper now, Father. And I think Truxton has done very well. It isn't easy for the boys to find time."
"Randy wrote to me every week."
"Now, Mother——"
"Well, you did."
"But I'm that kind. I have to get things off my mind. Truxton isn't. And I'll bet when Aunt Claudia does get his letters that they are worth reading."
Mrs. Beaufort nodded. "They are lovely letters. I have the last one with me; would you like to hear it?"