"Go on, dear," said the Squire.
Leila still hesitated. Usually Ann Penhallow carried away John's rare
letters to be read when alone. Now she said, with unnatural deliberation.
"Read it; one may as well hear his news; we can't always just ignore what
goes on."
Leila a little puzzled glanced at her aunt. The Squire pleased and
astonished said, "Go on, my dear."
Turning to the candles on the hall table, Leila read the letter:--"Why
how long it has been! It is dated November 20th."
"DEAR LEILA: We have been moving from place to place, and although I know
or guess why, it is best left out of letters. At Belmont General Grant
had a narrow escape from capture. He was the last man on board the boat.
He is a slightly built, grave, tired-looking man, middle-aged, carelessly
dressed and eternally smoking. I was in the thick of the row--a sort of
aide, as there was no engineer work. He was as cool as a cucumber--"
"Why are cucumbers cool?" asked Leila, looking up. "Oh, bother! Go on!"
said Penhallow.
"We shall move soon. Good-bye.
"JOHN PENHALLOW."
Ann made no comment. The Squire said, "It might have been longer. Come,
there's dinner, and I am hungry."
Ann looked at him. He was gay, and laughed at her account of Rivers's
disaster.
"I have some good news for you, Ann.
Pages:
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406