of enough to eat, and that his frivolous wife would be glad to
be rid of a child who must be in the way of her flirtations, that she
was constantly expecting to hear that she was coming. She did not
believe Archie would bring her himself, but she thought he would
probably consign her to the care of some reliable person, or put her in
charge of the captain or stewardess, and in her anxiety to have the
little girl she had written a second letter three days after she sent
the first. 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. So here we are for
an indefinite length of time, and here we found both your letters,
which old Anthony, who grows more and more stupid every year, failed
to forward to us in Paris. As Archie leaves everything to me, he
said I must answer the letters, and thank you for your offer to
remove our little girl from the poisonous atmosphere you think
surrounds her, and bring her up morally and spiritually. I do not
know what the atmosphere of Stoneleigh used to be when you lived
here, but I assure you it is very healthy now; not at all poisonous,
or malarious. We have had some of the oldest yews cut down and that
lets in the sunshine and fresh air, too.

"But I am wandering from the object of my letter, which is to say
th