In Beldingsville that August day, Mrs. Chilton waited until Pollyanna had gone to bed beforeshe spoke to her husband about the letter that had come in the morning mail. For thatmatter, she would have had to wait, anyway, for crowded office hours, and the doctor's twolong drives over the hills had left no time for domestic conferences.It was about half-past nine, indeed, when the doctor entered his wife's sitting-room. Histired face lighted at sight of her, but at once a perplexed questioning came to his eyes."Why, Polly, dear, what is it?" he asked concernedly.His wife gave a rueful laugh."Well, it's a letter-though I didn't mean you should find out by just looking at me.""Then you mustn't look so I can," he smiled. "But what is it?"Mrs. Chilton hesitated, pursed her lips, then picked up a letter near her."I'll read it to you," she said. "It's from a Miss Della Wetherby atDr. Ames' Sanatorium.""All right. Fire away," directed the man, throwing himself at full length on to the couch nearhis wife's chair.
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