At his door he turned the latch-key, and for a moment--a bare
moment--drew back; then, with a shiver, he opened the door and went
inside.

Moses was waiting. "Miss Dorothea she called me up, sir, and told me
to be sure and give you this letter to-night. She slip out of bed to
telephone when that French white lady was out the room, she say. She
had her Ma send it by messenger, and she was so 'fraid you wouldn't
get it to-night she couldn't sleep. She sent a peck of love."

Laine took the letter and went to his room. Dorothea was given to
letters, and if his absence was unduly long a communication to that
effect was promptly received. He had seen her last night, however.
What was she wanting now? Breaking the seal, he read the sprawly
writing with narrowed eyes, then read again, that he might miss no
word.

DEAR UNCLE WINTHROP,--Moses telefoned us and Channing and I have just
cried and cried and cried. But I won't even call his name if you
will only come and let me kiss you so you will know. We wanted to
send you some flowers but Claudia said our love was best. She is so
sorry too. She had one and it died last spring. I had a headake
to-day. It came from my heart because of you and she made it go
away. I think she could make most any kind of pain go away. And her
hands are not red and her hair is brown and her lashes are brown too,
and long and lovely. I don't know the color of her eyes. I think
they are glad color. I love her! I knew I would.

Your devoted niece, DOROTHEA.

P. S.--I told her you didn't like young ladies and she said she
didn't like old gentlemen, except a few. Please, P-L-E-A-S-E come
and see me--and you can come in the nursery if you don't want to see
her. She knows.

Your loving niece,
DOROTHEA.

P. S. Again.--You ought to hear her laugh. Its delishus.

He put the letter back in the envelope, and the envelope in his
pocket. "She knows," he repeated. What under heaven had Dorothea
been telling her? He must see Dorothea and have it stopped. Did she
think him a feeble and infirm person who leaned on a stick, or a
crabbed and cross one who had no manners? He would have to call, if
only to thank her for her note. No. He would do that in writing.
Next week, perhaps, he might drop in and see Dorothea. But Hope and
Channing should take the girl about, show her the city. Certainly
Hope could not be so idiotic as to let clothes matter. In his
sister's w