" Then followed terse directions as to the best way of reaching
Kedarville, and, finally: "Mrs. Philander Keeler will board you for two
Dollars and fifty cents per week."
As I read this last clause everything that had made a sudden tumult in
my mind before was lulled into a mysterious calm.
It was not the low value set upon the means of subsistence in Kedarville.
Mercenary motives were, with me, as yet out of the question. It was not
the oppressive charm of Mrs. Philander Keeler's name that affected me so
strangely. It was the expressive combination of the whole, at once so
clear cut and unique. I murmured it softly to myself on my way home from
the Post-office.
"Han," said I, quite gravely, to my elder sister on entering the house;
"Mrs. Philander Keeler will board me for two dollars and fifty cents per
week:" and handed her the letter in pensive, though triumphant,
confirmation of my words.
"When did you do this?" she gasped, and, before I could answer, "how are
you going to get out of it?" she faintly demanded.
"Simply by getting into it, my dear," I answered, with that unyielding
sweetness of demeanor for which I fancied I had ever been distinguished
in the family circle.
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