Don't be too cross! You've always been an angel to me, and I love you;
but I am tired, tired, tired of the sort of life we lead; and the other
day, when Mr. Flood's man so obligingly bumped into the poor little
boy, I was wondering how on earth I could get out of it for a time, get
some sort of change. Then, the people here seemed to take it for
granted that I would stay to nurse the child. It was the first time in
my life that anyone had ever taken for granted that I would do the
right thing if it meant personal discomfort. Before, I had always been
praised and applauded if I merely happened to do it. I don't suppose I
can make you understand, dearest Cissy; but just that made all the
difference in the world to me. And now I am going to stay here--for
how long, I do not know. Until I get tired of it, perhaps, or until I
can think up something else. The mountains are so big, Cecilia, and
the stars so bright, and the sun does such good work!
I have put some money to your credit; I think there will be enough to
last you for a while. You can even get the motor car, if you want to.
And if I were you, I should stop in town and get a few linens and
perhaps a hat or two and a parasol at Lucille's. You will need a lot
of things at Bar Harbor. I suppose you will go right up to the
Whartons'.
You say I have broken up Mr. Flood's plans. I'm afraid I don't
altogether agree to that. There was only another week-end left in
June, and we were not going to stay any longer than that. I do not
choose to think that you referred to other plans of his. If you do,
please understand that I have no interest in them.
Give my love to the Whartons; they have always thought me queer,
anyway, so you will not have to account to them for me. And don't be
too cross!
Cecilia's reply, which the doctor brought up the mountain a week later,
was dated from Bar Harbor. It read: