mother.

Five years ago she would have been incensed at this; but now,
essentially, she was without personal indignation. She wanted, for
herself, to discover as much as possible about her father and his
family. A need independent of maternal influences stirred her. Linda
was reassured by the fact that her father had been gently born;
while she realized that she had always taken this for granted. Her
mother must know nothing about the meeting with Miss Lowrie until
the latter had written.

That was Friday and the letter came the following Tuesday. Linda,
alone at the breakfast-table, instantly aware of the source of the
square envelope addressed in a delicate regular writing, opened it
and read in an unusual mental disturbance:

"My dear Linda,

I hope you will not consider it peculiar for me to call you this,
for nothing else seems possible. Meeting you in that abrupt manner
upset me, as you must have noticed. Of course I knew of you, and
even now I can not go into our long unhappy affair, but until I saw
you, and so remarkably like the Lowries, I did not realize how
wicked Elouise and I had been. But I am obliged to add only where
you were concerned. We have no desire to be ambiguous in that.

However, I am writing to say that we should love to have you visit
us here. It is possible under the circumstances that your mother
will not wish you to come. Yet I know the Lowries, a very
independent and decided family, and although it is my last intention