DEAR MADAM:  Dr. Anderson desires me to say that he trusts you are bearing in mind the fact that, according to the decision of the court, his daughter Mary is to come to him on the first day of May.  If you will kindly inform him as to the hour of her expected arrival, he will see that she is properly met at the station.

Then she signed her name, Abigail Jane Anderson. (She was named for her mother, Grandma Anderson, same as Father wanted them to name me.  Mercy!  I’m glad they didn’t.  “Mary” is bad enough, but “Abigail Jane”—!)

Well, Mother read the letter aloud, then she began to talk about it—­how she felt, and how awful it was to think of giving me up six whole months, and sending her bright little sunny-hearted Marie into that tomb-like place with only an Abigail Jane to flee to for refuge.  And she said that she almost wished Nurse Sarah was back again—­that she, at least, was human.

“‘And see that she’s properly met,’ indeed!” went on Mother, with an indignant little choke in her voice.  “Oh, yes, I know!  Now if it were a star or a comet that he expected, he’d go himself and sit for hours and hours watching for it.  But when his daughter comes, he’ll send John with the horses, like enough, and possibly that precious Abigail Jane of his.  Or, maybe that is too much to expect.  Oh, Hattie, I can’t let her go—­I can’t, I can’t!”

I was in the window-seat around the corner of the chimney, reading; and I don’t know as she knew I was there.  But I was, and I heard.  And I’ve heard other things, too, all this week.

I’m to go next Monday, and as it comes nearer the time Mother’s getting worse and worse.  She’s so unhappy over it.  And of course that makes me unhappy, too.  But I try not to show it.  Only yesterday, when she was crying and hugging me, and telling me how awful it was that her little girl should have to suffer, too, I told her not to worry a bit about me; that I wasn’t suffering at all.  I liked it.  It was ever so much more exciting to have two homes instead of one.  But she only cried all the more, and sobbed, “Oh, my baby, my baby!”—­so nothing I could say seemed to do one mite of good.

But I meant it, and I told the truth.  I am excited.  And I can’t help wondering how it’s all going to be at Father’s.  Oh, of course, I know it won’t be so much fun, and I’ll have to be “Mary,” and all that; but it’ll be something different, and I always did like different things.  Besides, there’s Father’s love story to watch.  Maybe he’s found somebody.  Maybe he didn’t wait a year.  Anyhow, if he did find somebody I’m sure he wouldn’t be so willing to wait as Mother would.  You know Nurse Sarah said Father never wanted to wait for anything.  That’s why he married Mother so quick, in the first place.  But if there is somebody, of course I’ll find out when I’m there.  So that’ll be interesting.  And, anyway, there’ll be the girls.  I shall have them.