“YOU DEAR OLD DARLING MARGERY:—I do know just how surprised and glad you were to hear that I was in America, for wasn’t I just as glad to know that you were near me when I thought you in Nice or Italy. Why didn’t you answer my letter, you naughty girl? I wrote you six and only had two in return. It is just like a story, isn’t it—our being together in America? And, Margie, my grandmother is not that English duchess I used to talk so much about, but a real, live Yankee woman, of the very _Yankee-est_ kind, red, and fat, and good, and calls me _Rennet_, and wears purple gloves—or she did till I coaxed her into some black ones, which she thinks are not very dressy. And you will like her ever so much, and you are coming to Merrivale to live at once, now, right away. So, pack up your things as soon as you read this. I have bought that business for you of Mrs. Ferguson, who is my aunt, or rather the wife of my mother’s brother; and she has a daughter Anna, who is my cousin, and very _stunning_ and _swell_. That last is _slang_, which I have learned in America of Phil, who is another cousin, and a Ferguson, too: or rather his mother was, which is the same thing. There are a great many Fergusons, you see; but then there are Fergusons and Fergusons. But you will learn all this when you come. I have a pretty little cottage engaged, with a bit of fresh greensward in front, and the loveliest old-fashioned garden at the side, with June pinks, and roses, and tiger-lilies, and a nice bed of _tansy_, I like tansy, don’t you? There was a patch of it at dear old Chateau des Fleurs. Then there are two front rooms for the work, and a sitting and dining-room back, with the kitchen, and three chambers communicating with each other. One of these I shall fit up with blue for you; it will just suit your lovely complexion and eyes; the other is scarlet, for your mother, who is dark; and the third—well, that is to be mine when I stay with you nights, as I intend doing often. But I can’t have the same color as your mother, so I shall take pink, which will make me look just like a—a—_nigger_. That’s another word I caught from Phil. I wish he would come back. Tell him so, please.