came the nice voice of that Mr. Peter Scudder of Philadelphia from the
other side of me.

"No, with much gratitude to you both; I must wait the arrival of my
Uncle," I made answer to them with my head held very high.

"Then we'll see you at the Ritz for tea at five as per promise," said
Mr. William Raines as he walked away and left Mr. Peter Scudder, who
was assisting the lady from Cincinnati to transport her very lovely
dog to a handsome car which awaited her. She also had I promised to
visit from that great Ritz-Carlton hotel and she smiled in sweet
friendliness to me as I stood with the letter in my hand and watched
all of the friends I had found upon that ship, depart and leave me
with not a place to go. I stood for many minutes motionless and then
my eyes perceived the letter in my hand. Surely it must be opened and
read. It was from the wicked Uncle, I knew, but it might be that it
was not of the cruelty that I had expected. It would excuse him no
doubt from arrival in person for the expected greeting to his
relatives, Pierre and myself.

"Go to it, Bob," I advised myself in the language I had heard Mr.
Saint Louis use when he was forced to ask a nice lady, who danced with
disagreeable heaviness, to trot the fox with him because of a
friendship with his mother.

And this is the letter that my eyes read with astonishment, while both
the good Nannette and small shivering Pierre sat with their eyes fixed
upon my countenance:

"My dear nephew Robert: