if it does, I'm afraid I can't help feeling somewhat disappointed--on
Hilary's account."

Her mother smiled. "We can only wait and see. I would rather you said
nothing of what I have been telling you to either Hilary or Patience,
Pauline."

"I won't, Mother Shaw. It seems I have a lot of secrets from Hilary.
And I won't write any more such letters without consulting you or
father, you can depend on that."

Mr. Paul Shaw's answer did not come within the allotted week. It was
the longest week Pauline had ever known; and when the second went by
and still no word from her uncle, the waiting and uncertainty became
very hard to bear, all the harder, that her usual confidant, Hilary,
must not be allowed to suspect anything.

The weather had turned suddenly warm, and Hilary's listlessness had
increased proportionately, which probably accounted for the dying out
of what little interest she had felt at first in Patience's "mysterious
letter."

Patience, herself, was doing her best to play fair; fortunately, she
was in school the greater part of the day, else the strain upon her
powers of self-control might have proved too heavy.

"Mother," Pauline said one evening, lingering in her mother's room,
after Hilary had gone to bed, "I don't believe Uncle Paul means
answering at all. I wish I'd never asked him to do anything."