The next day's mail carried the
following letter to Laura Burton:
CAMP CHAPARRAL, August 16, 188-.
My dear Laura,--As I told you when you were leaving, I cannot well
say how sorry I am that anything should have occurred to mar your
pleasant remembrance of your stay with us. That your dear mother's
daughter should have been treated with discourtesy while she was my
guest was very disagreeable to me; but I have learned that you were
yourself somewhat to blame in the affair, and therefore you should
have borne the harsh treatment you received with considerable
patience, and perhaps have kept it quite to yourself. ('That little
cat told her, after all,' said Laura, when she read this. 'I didn't
think she was that kind.') Polly would never have confessed the
cause of the quarrel, because she knew nothing could justify her
language; but Elsie was lying in the hammock behind the tent and
overheard the remark which so roused Polly's anger. You were not
aware, of course, how sore a spot you touched upon, or you could
never have spoken as you did, though I well know that you were both
too angry to reflect. Polly is a peculiarly proud and high-spirited
girl--proud, I confess, to a fault; but she comes, on her mother's
side, from a long line of people who have had much to be proud of in
the way of unblemished honesty, nobility, fine attainments, and
splendid achievements. Of her father's honourable services to his
country, and his sad and untimely death, you may have heard; but you
may not know that Mrs.
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