Far be it from me to place myself under obligation to anyone, least of all to a stranger, by receiving aid. I do not ask it. I now wish that I had never spoken to you of your having been instrumental in my father's death. A proud daughter of the Southland, CLARA LOUISE CHAMBERLAIN. CLARA LOUISE CHAMBERLAIN TO BEVERLEY SANDS _May 17, 1912._ MY DEAR MR. SANDS: I have received your cheque and I think what you have done is most appropriate. Since I wrote you last, my position in this establishment has become still more embarrassing. Mr. Andy Peters has begun to offer me his attentions. I have done nothing to bring about this infatuation for me and I regard it as most inopportune. I should like to leave here and take a position in New York. If I could find a situation there as secretary to some gentleman, my experience as my great father's secretary would of course qualify me to succeed as his. You may not have cordially responded to my first letters, but you cannot deny that they were well written. If the gentleman were a married man, I could assure the family beforehand that there would be no occasion for jealousy on his wife's part, as so often happens with secretaries, I have heard. If he should have lost his wife and should have little children, I do love little children. While not acting as his secretary, I could be acting with the children. If my grey-haired father, who is now beyond the blue skies, were only back in North Carolina! CLARA LOUISE. CLARA LOUISE CHAMBERLAIN TO BEVERLEY SANDS _May 21, 1912._ MY DEAR MR. SANDS: I have been forced to leave forever the greenhouse of Mr. Andy Peters and am now thrown upon my own resources without a roof over my proud head. Mr. Andy Peters is a confirmed rascal. I almost feel that I shall have to do something desperate if I am to succeed. CLARA LOUISE CHAMBERLAIN. BEVERLEY SANDS TO BEN DOOLITTLE _May 24, 1912._ DEAR BEN: Clara Louise Chamberlain is in New York! God Almighty! I have been so taken up lately with other things that I have forgotten to send you a little bundle of letters from her. You will discover from one of these that I gave her a cheque. I know you will say it was folly, perhaps criminal folly; but I _was_ in a way "instrumental" in bringing about the great botanist's demise. If I had described no ferns, there would have been no fern trouble, no fern list. The old gentleman would not have forgotten the list, if I had not had it sent to him; hence he would not have gotten up at midnight to search for it, would not have fallen downstairs, might never have had pneumonia. I can never be acquitted of responsibility! Besides, she praised my novel (something you have never done!): that alone was worth nearly a hundred dollars to me! Now she is here and she writes, asking me to help her to find employment, as she is without means.