The barking of Laps was caused by the arrival of Mr. Wesson, whom I blamed without much reason for the headache I had awakened with. The fellow irritated me exceedingly and I made up my mind to get away from the Island without waiting for the Pretoria, if there was any feasible way to do it. CHAPTER XVI. IT IS FROM A GIRL. The arrival of letters, both for myself and Miss May, the next day, made me forget everything else till mine were read and answered. I had not looked for them so soon and do not know yet what course they took to reach us. It is supposed to be a rule of the postal department to forward all mail by the most expeditious route, but previous experience in the Caribbean had taught me that the rule is reversed there in most cases. Eggert brought the things to us, having had sense enough to inquire at the office when he knew a steamer was in. Miss May had taken the precaution to have hers addressed "Care Miss M. Carney," after I told her she would be weighted with this title, and her friends supposed, no doubt, that the unfamiliar name represented the proprietress of a hotel or boarding house. She gave a joyful cry as I held two letters out to her, made the usual feminine inquiry if that was all, and retired to a corner by herself to read them, like a dog with a bone. The first letter I opened was from Tom Barton, the second from his sister. Tom's was merely a recital of the latest happenings that he thought might interest me, and expressions of hope that I would derive great benefit from my cruise. Statia's was a homily on the beauty of holiness and a sermon on the alleged fact that wicked deeds are often punished nearer home than in that subterranean place of extreme heat of which most moderns have begun to doubt. She was evidently in about the same frame of mind as when I last saw her, but I was too glad to know that she cared enough about me to write at all to be severely critical. I liked Statia. She filled a place in my heart that had been vacant before--a sort of sisterly place, as near as I can tell--and I resolved while reading to curb my tendency to joke when I answered her and take a weight off her mind if I could. The next letter was a formal one from Uncle Dugald, reading like an official document. And the only remaining one was--of all things--from Miss Alice Brazier, who had adopted my suggestion and renewed her injunctions at the expense of a five cent stamp. I expected something from Harvey Hume, and when I looked over the odd packages of printed matter I detected his handwriting on several of them. Like Mary of old, he had chosen the better part, and had contributed as much to my happiness as either of the others. Six daily papers and three magazines, besides a new novel, bore his fist on their wrappers, and he had broken the laws of the postoffice by scribbling on stray corners certain "God bless you's!" for which I hope he will be forgiven.