She was not even thinking of
the dinner. Presently there drove into the grounds a boy in a
bowl-shaped trotting-wagon, bringing a telegram for Mr. Haverley. La
Fleur went to meet him.
"He is not at home," she said.
"Well," said the boy, "there is seventy-five cents to pay, and perhaps
there is an answer."
"Are you sure the message was not prepaid?" asked La Fleur, suspiciously.
"Oh, the seventy-five cents is for delivery," said the boy. "We deliver
free in town, but we can't come way out here in the country for nothing.
Isn't there somebody here who can 'tend to it?"
La Fleur drew a wallet from her pocket. "I will pay you," she said;
"but if there is an answer you should take it back with you. Can't you
wait a bit?"
"No," said the boy, "I can't. I shall be away from the office too long
as it is."
La Fleur was in a quandary; there was no one at home but herself; a
telegram is always important; very likely an immediate answer was
required; and here was an opportunity to send one. If the message were
from his sister, there might be something which she could answer.
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