Mrs. Forrester withdrew the letter from its envelope, adjusted her glasses and glanced at the writing. Hastily she turned to the signature and exclaimed, "Why, it’s from Helen!" Then, turning to Josephine, added, "You remember Mrs. Lewis, my dear. Her husband was appointed to the vice-presidency of a New York bank about two years ago. She wrote to me several times and then our correspondence gradually dropped off. I was thinking of her only recently, and wondering how she was getting on in New York." "We remember her perfectly, Mother," broke in Forrester, impatiently. "We want to know what the letter says." "We!" echoed Josephine, surprised. "I’m sure I’m not especially interested." Mrs. Forrester glanced through the note. "It is a letter of introduction," she explained, looking over her glasses at Forrester. "How odd! Helen asks me to do what I can to make Miss Mary Sturtevant’s stay in Chicago a pleasant one. Strange that she did not write me directly." "Oh," breathed Josephine, smiling wisely at Forrester. "Does she say who Miss Sturtevant is?" queried Forrester. "The daughter of some very dear friends of Helen’s. The Sturtevants are an old New York family, she says. I’m quite sure that I have heard of them." "May I be permitted to inquire," said Josephine, roguishly, "how Mr. Robert Forrester came to be the bearer of this note, and wherefrom springs his intense interest?" Forrester colored, then frowned severely upon his sister. "I met the young lady through an accident this morning. When she learned who I was she asked me to bring this letter to you. She had intended presenting it in person, but learned after arriving that we would not be moving to ’Woodmere’ for some days." "My! What a simple and straightforward explanation," smiled Josephine. "Why not tell us _all_ about it, Bob?" Forrester scowled at his sister, and sipped from his water glass to gain time to collect his thoughts. He was not sure at this time just how much he ought to tell. He set the glass down and briefly related how his car had frightened the girl’s horse, leaving it to be assumed that she had at that time given him the letter. "What an extraordinary coincidence!" exclaimed Mrs. Forrester. At that moment her attention was distracted by a question from the maid, and Josephine, leaning toward Forrester, whispered, "Some time I want to hear the _whole_ story, Bob. It’s so romantic!"