“Theodoshy has been to see us, and though in my way of thinkin’ she aint as handsome as Margaret, she looks as well as the ginerality of women.  I liked her, too, and as soon as the men’s winter clothes is off my hands I calkerlate to have a quiltin’, and finish up another bed quilt to send her, for, man-like, George has furnished up his rooms with all sorts of nicknacks, and got only two blankets, and two Marsales spreads for his bed.  So I’ve sent ’em down the herrin’-bone and risin’-sun quilts for everyday wear, as I don’t believe in usin’ your best things all the time.  My old man says I’d better let ’em alone; but he’s got some queer ideas, thinks you’ll sniff your nose at my letter, and all that, but I’ve more charity for folks, and well I might have, bein’ that’s my name.

“Charity Douglas.”

To this letter were appended three different postscripts.  In the first Madam Conway and Maggie were cordially invited to visit Charlton again; in the second Betsy Jane sent her regrets; while in the third Madam Conway was particularly requested to excuse haste and a bad pen.

“Disgusting creature!” was Madam Conway’s exclamation as she finished the letter, then tossing it into the fire without a passing thought, she took up another one, which had come by the same mail, and was from Theo herself.

After dwelling at length upon the numerous calls she made, the parties she attended, the compliments she received, and her curiosity to know why her grandmother came back that day, she spoke of her recent visit in Charlton.

“You have been there, it seems [she wrote], so I need not particularize, though I know how shocked and disappointed you must have been; and I think it was kind in you to say nothing upon the subject except that you had called there, for George reads all my letters, and I would not have his feelings hurt.  He had prepared me in a measure for the visit, but the reality was even worse than I anticipated.  And still they are the kindest-hearted people in the world, while Mr. Douglas is a man, they say, of excellent sense.  George never lived at home much, and their heathenish ways mortify him, I know, though he never says a word except that they are his parents.

“People here respect George, too, quite as much as if he were a Conway, and I sometimes think they like him all the better for being so kind to his old father, who comes frequently to the store.  Grandma, I begin to think differently of some things from what I did.  Birth and blood do not make much difference, in this country, at least; and still I must acknowledge that I should feel dreadfully if I did not love George and know that he is the kindest husband in the world.”

The letter closed with a playful insinuation that as Henry Warner had gone, Maggie might possibly marry Arthur Carrollton, and so make amends for the disgrace which Theo had unwittingly brought upon the Conway line.