At any
rate, it was an affair that must not be neglected, and Mr. Haverley had
gone off with his fishing-rod, and no one knew when he would get back.
"Wait one minute," she said to the boy, and she hurried into the kitchen
with the telegram. She put on her spectacles and looked at it; the
envelope was very slightly fastened. No doubt this was something that
needed attention, and the boy would not wait. Telegrams were not like
private letters, anyway, and she would take the risk. So she opened the
envelope without tearing it, and read the message. First she was
frightened, and then she was puzzled.
"Well, I can't answer that," she said, "and I suppose he will go as soon
as he gets it."
She laid the telegram on the kitchen table and went out to the impatient
boy, and told him there was no answer. Whereupon he departed at the top
of his pony's speed.
La Fleur returned to the kitchen and reread the telegram. The signature
was not very legible, and in her first hasty reading she had not made it
out, but now she deciphered it.
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