CHAPTER XVIII
THE PRODIGAL AT HOME
In the morning, Elsie rose at seven and put together such things as she should want for the three weeks before her marriage, if she was to spend that interval under her brother's care. At eight o'clock she received her letters—including one in a handwriting she did not know. She opened it.
'Dear Elsie,' it said, 'come to me at once. Come early. Come to breakfast at nine. I will wait for you till ten, or any time.
'Your affectionate Brother,
'Athelstan.'
'Oh!' she murmured. 'And I did not know his writing. And to think that I am twenty-one, and he is thirty-one; and that I have never had a letter from him before!'
Her boxes were packed. She put on her jacket and hat and descended into the breakfast-room, where her mother was already opening her letters and waiting breakfast.
'You are going out, Elsie?' she asked coldly.
'Yes. Hilda told you, I suppose, what she came here for yesterday. In fact, you sent me a message.'