From
this envelope she unfolded a sheet of closely typewritten paper. This she
showed to Tavia.
"Is that your signature?" she asked, pointing to the name signed to the
letter.
"Why, yes," stammered Tavia, startled and surprised.
"You are astonished that I should have your letter," said the woman. "But
so-called confidential correspondence travels many miles these days. I
address letters and do penwork for business firms, and have received your
letter among hundreds of others."
A flash of indignation crossed Tavia's face. She wanted to snatch that
letter and tear it into a thousand pieces.
But Miss Brooks was quick to discern her indignation.
"Of course, I am responsible for every letter," she said. "In fact, I run
a great risk in even showing this to you. But I felt I would have to make
sure--that you were the party--involved."
Tavia felt like a culprit.
Involved!
She sighed heavily as Miss Brooks fumbled with the telltale letter.
"You lost five dollars?" asked Miss Brooks.
"Yes. Five of my own, and ten of a--friend's."
"Oh!" and the woman's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Yes, I see. Nathaniel
White," and she ran her fingers through a package of coupons. "Of course,
he belongs here. He is one of the gentlemen from The Cedars?"
"Yes," stammered Tavia, feeling as if her cheeks would ignite if something
did not promptly relieve the tension.
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