"This is a lucky day; it has brought us great things, and the promise of
greater things in the future." Nefert came close up to her and said
imploringly: "Open the letter, and see if there is nothing in it from
him."

Katuti unfastened the wax, looked through the letter with a hasty glance,
stroked the cheek of her child, and said:

"Perhaps your brother has written for him; I see no line in his
handwriting."

Nefert on her side glanced at the letter, but not to read it, only to
seek some trace of the well-known handwriting of her husband.

Like all the Egyptian women of good family she could read, and during the
first two years of her married life she had often--very often--had the
opportunity of puzzling, and yet rejoicing, over the feeble signs which
the iron hand of the charioteer had scrawled on the papyrus for her whose
slender fingers could guide the reed pen with firmness and decision.

She examined the letter, and at last said, with tears in her eyes:

"Nothing! I will go to my room, mother."

Katuti kissed her and said, "Hear first what your brother writes."

But Nefert shook her head, turned away in silence, and disappeared into
the house.

Katuti was not very friendly to her son-in-law, but her heart clung to