"Where he is doing well——"
"And he sends his father five pounds——"
"And now the old man says he will not need our half-a-crown a week any longer——"
"So we can give it to old Mrs. Wimple, his neighbour——"
"A great sufferer, you know, and oh, so patient."
"Really!" said Claudia, a little confused by this antiphonal kind of narrative.
"Yes," continued Aunt Jane, "and I see a letter has come in for you—from home, I think. So this has been quite an eventful morning."
Claudia took the letter and went up to her own room, reflecting a little ungratefully upon the contentment which reigned below.
She opened her letter. It was, she saw, from her mother, written, apparently, at two or three sittings, for the last sheet contained a most voluminous postscript. She read the opening page of salutation, and then laid it down to prepare for luncheon. Musing as she went about her room, time slipped away, and the gong was rumbling out its call before she was quite ready to go down.
She hurried away, and the letter was left unfinished. It caught her eye in the afternoon; but again Claudia was hurried, and resolved that it could very well wait until she returned at night.