Part 6 (1/2)

And Mrs. Shaw read, as follows--

NEW YORK CITY, May 31, 19--.

_Miss Pauline A. Shaw, Winton, Vt._

MY DEAR NIECE: Yours of May 16th to hand. I am sorry to learn that your sister Hilary appears to be in such poor health at present. Such being the case, however, it would seem to me that home was the best place for her. I do not at all approve of this modern fas.h.i.+on of running about the country, on any and every pretext. Also, if I remember correctly, your father has frequently described Winton to me as a place of great natural charms, and peculiarly adapted to those suffering from so-called nervous disorders.

Altogether, I do not feel inclined to comply with your request to make it possible for your sister to leave home, in search of change and recreation. Instead, beginning with this letter, I will forward you each month during the summer, the sum of twenty-five dollars, to be used in procuring for your sisters and yourself--I understand, there is a third child--such simple and healthful diversions as your parents may approve, the only conditions I make, being, that at no time shall any of your pleasure trips take you further than ten miles from home, and that you keep me informed, from time to time, how this plan of mine is succeeding.

Trusting this may prove satisfactory,

Very respectfully, PAUL A. SHAW.

”What do you think, mother?” Pauline asked, as Mrs. Shaw finished reading. ”Isn't it a very--queer sort of letter?”

”It is an extremely characteristic one, dear.”

”I think,” Patience could contain herself no longer, ”that you are the inconsideratest persons! You know I'm perfectly wild to know what's in that letter!”

”Run away now, Patience,” her mother said. ”You shall hear about it later,” and when Patience had obeyed--not very willingly, Mrs. Shaw turned again to Pauline. ”We must show this to your father, before making any plans in regard to it, dear.”

”He's coming now. You show it to him, please, mother.”

When her mother had gone down-stairs, Pauline still sat there in the window seat, looking soberly out across the lawn to the village street, with its double rows of tall, old trees. So her flag had served little purpose after all! That change for Hilary was still as uncertain, as much a vague part of the future, as it had ever been.

It seemed to the girl, at the moment, as if she fairly hated Winton.

As though Hilary and she did not already know every stick and stone in it, had not long ago exhausted all its possibilities!

New people might think it ”quaint” and ”pretty” but they had not lived here all their lives. And, besides, she had expressly told Uncle Paul that the doctor had said that Hilary needed a change.

She was still brooding over the downfall of her hopes, when her mother called to her from the garden. Pauline went down, feeling that it mattered very little what her father's decision had been--it could make so little difference to them, either way.

Mrs. Shaw was on the bench under the old elm, that stood midway between parsonage and church. She had been rereading Uncle Paul's letter, and to Pauline's wonder, there was something like a smile of amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes.

”Well, mother?” the girl asked.

”Well, dear, your father and I have talked the matter over, and we have decided to allow you to accept your uncle's offer.”

”But that--hateful condition! How is Hilary to get a chance--here in Winton?”

”Who was it that I heard saying, only this morning, Pauline, that even if Uncle Paul didn't agree, she really believed we might manage to have a very pleasant summer here at home?”

”I know--but still, now that we know definitely--”

”We can go to work definitely to do even better.”

”But how, mother!”

”That is what we must think over. Suppose you put your wits to work right now. I must go down to Jane's for a few moments. After all, Pauline, those promised twenty-fives can be used very pleasantly--even in Winton.”