In this she had suggested the stewardess of the Celtic, whom
she knew, and with whom she assured Archie he could trust his child. But
days and weeks went by, until it was past the middle of June, and still
there were no tidings of Bessie; at last, however, there came a foreign
letter, addressed in a woman's hand to:
"Miss Elizabeth McPherson, Allington, Worcester Co., Mass., U.S.A."
The Elizabeth was an affront to the good woman, who bristled all over
with resentment, as she held the dainty envelope in her hand and studied
the strange monogram, "D.A.M." (Daisy Allen McPherson).
"Swears even in her monogram! I knew she would," was Miss Betsey's
comment, as she broke the seal and began to read, first muttering to
herself, "She writes well enough."
The letter was as follows:
"STONELEIGH, BANGOR, June 3d.
"OUR DEAR AUNT."
"Umph! I'm not _her_ aunt," was the mental comment, and then she
read on:
"We have just come home from Paris, where we spent several
delightful weeks with a party of friends, who would gladly have kept
us longer, but Archie was homesick for the old place, though what he
can see in it to admire I am sure I do not know.
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