MY DEAR FRIEND:--Your letter, so unexpected, was a surprise
to me, but I am very glad you sent it, otherwise we might not
have understood each other as well as I now hope we may. It
grieves me that you should feel so offended at my seeming
lack of friendship. Perhaps the time may come when you will
think differently. Had I received your letter two weeks ago,
or had you then told me what you say you would have explained
in confidence, you would probably have no cause now to
complain of me.
Your letter, in some respects, is a puzzle to me. It has
almost made me suspicious of a certain party, but I must wait
and see what time will tell, then perhaps we shall find it
agreeable to talk over the matter and be as friendly as ever.
You may feel sure I was very glad of your success at the
trial, and I hope, oh so much, that you will triumph over all
your misfortunes. I should have answered your letter more
promptly, but I have been, and still am, kept at home by a
bad cold which I took the night of the fire.
With best wishes, sincerely your friend, NELLIE DUTTON.
Instead of throwing a shadow over our young friend's horizon, this
letter swept away, for a time, the few remaining clouds, and made the
sunshine so bright and cheering that he was happy indeed. He had been
cast down so long by bitter misfortunes, that these expressions of
friendship, and especially those of Miss Nellie, seemed to liberate his
fettered spirits, and make them bound high with joy.
His work seemed nothing to him. The flockers lost their dusty, dingy
appearance. The heavy rolls of cloth were but playthings in his hands.
There was no friction, no irritation. Everything moved with the grace
and charm of a well modeled yacht with swelling sails upon a rippling
sea.
"She wishes so much that I may triumph over all my misfortunes," he said
to himself, "and I can see now she almost suspects De Vere. I know she
means him. I have been a fool to misjudge her so--and she is at home
sick, poor girl!"
Here a sudden impulse seized him, and in a few moments he was at John
Fielding's hot house and ordered a dollar's worth of choice cut flowers.
He handed the florist the money and directed him to send them to Nellie
Dutton with his card.
The old florist was startled--could hardly believe his own senses. Such
an order to be received from a boy was unprecedented--nothing of the
kind had ever been known in the village, and that Fred Worthington, now
a factory boy, should be the one to lead off in this very commendable
fashion--a fashion that is only really practised in the larger
towns--seemed too much to realize.
Fred saw this plainly in the queer little old man's face, and he blushed
deeply as he thought what he had done.
Whether the florist hoped to encourage this sort of trade by liberal
dealing I cannot say, but that he sent some very choice flowers, and a
large quantity for the money, is certain. It would be difficult to
imagine a more surprised or delighted person than Nellie Dutton was when
she opened the box and took from it the sweet smelling flowers, and a
neatly written card bearing the name--"Fred Worthington."
If she was a little jealous of her friend Grace on the previous day, she
now had no occasion to feel so. Her letter had brought a response that
she little expected--a response, however, that made her quite as happy
as Fred.
If she had, up to this time, held serious doubts as to his innocence,
they were now dispelled. A little act will many times go far toward
changing one's opinion, and there are few arguments more forcible with
girls, and even ladies of mature age, than are choice flowers. This act
of Fred, though seemingly absurd for a boy in his position, was a
master stroke in his favor, for it not only won Nellie's friendship
fully back, but it also created a very favorable impression upon her
mother, who was scarcely less pleased with the flowers than Nellie
herself.