"What do you think, Charlotte?" she exclaimed. "I have a letter from Duke. Not written after we sailed, of course, for it couldn't have reached me. He bearded mother in her fortress the morning we left Washington. She was out, or said she was, but sent a note saying that I had gone on a journey and would be absent for a month. He went directly to the Winthrops for news and they told him I was with you and that if he wrote at once by special delivery he could reach the ship before it left New York dock. He sent the letter to the captain and asked him to give it to me at St. Thomas for a surprise. The captain is such a nice man, though a good deal of a tease! Mr. Winthrop was delighted to hear you were not alone. Poor Miss Winthrop has influenza and they both wish they had taken this trip. It seems they are thinking of it just a little." "The Winthrops coming on this voyage," I exclaimed. "Impossible! They hadn't an idea of it." "Mightn't he want to interview the governor and look at the island?" "He hasn't time. I chose this journey instead of another so that I could interview the governor and look at the islands myself." "Well, I dare say there's nothing in it. Duke didn't speak of it as anything settled, and he may have misunderstood, his mind being on me. May I read you the letter--I mean parts of it?" "I shouldn't expect to hear all of it," I replied dryly. "Yet the bits I leave out are the ones that show him as he is," she said, looking off into the grove of palms. "Duke is so conscientious that until we succeed in melting mother--that would be a good title for a story, 'Melting Mother'!--and until she sanctions an engagement he won't let himself go, even on paper. So I get only a lovely sort of 'seepage' that breaks through in spite of him!" "Skip the seepage," I said unsympathetically, "and give the news." She re-read the first paragraphs to herself with a good deal of dimpling and with eyes that suffused with feeling now and then, and turning the page began to read aloud: Knowing that you were on the high seas far away from me, though safe with your charming Miss Clifford (Duke admires you extravagantly, Charlotte!), I concluded to burn my ships and have a straightforward talk with your mother, although you have repeatedly warned me that this was not the best method of approach and that only patience would win my cause. I sent up my card at the New Willard, and doubtless she would have refused to receive me, but, going from the office to one of the reception rooms to await her, I found her seated there with your Philadelphia aunt and another lady. There had evidently been confidences, so they scented trouble and took to their heels when I had been introduced to them somewhat informally as a friend of Dorothea's, my name not being mentioned. I asked your mother, when we were left alone, if she had any objection to me other than my uneuphonious and suggestive surname.