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" "Your own was equally so," said Jackson ironically. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. ’ ‘You saw? Where were you? How did you see?’ ‘Your heroic milice are not as clever as they thought. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t understand why I wanted you to come here?” “Not a bit of it,” said Ann Veronica stoutly. ” She became aware of her aunt, through the panes of the greenhouse, advancing with an air of serene unconsciousness from among the raspberry canes. However, I'd rather have a blow from the daughter than the mother. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t.
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