'Master Phil Lovel, 'Post-office. 'To be called for.'
"Be sure you put 'to be called for' in big letters.
Gabrielle and Rupert read this very characteristic little epistle without comment. When they had finished it, Rupert slipped it back into its envelope and gave it to his sister.
"We must both write to the poor little chap," he said. "The postmark on the envelope is Southampton. I suppose Southampton, England, will find him." Then he added after a pause: "I wonder what queer thing Aunt Bella is thinking about now?"
"She always was the silliest person in the world," said Gabrielle in a tone of strong contempt. "If she were my mother I shouldn't love her. I wonder how Phil loves her. Poor little Phil! He always was a dear little fellow--not a bit like Aunt Bella, thank goodness!"
"Why, Gabrielle," he said, "you can have no observation; Phil is the image of his mother. There is nothing at all belonging to his father about Phil except his eyes."
"And his nature," proceeded Gabrielle, "and his dear, brave little soul. I am sure if trial came to him Phil could be a hero. What matter that he has got Aunt Bella's uninteresting features? He has nothing more of her in him. Oh, she always was a silly, mysterious person! Just think of her not allowing Phil to tell us where he is!"
"My father says that there is method in Aunt Bella's silliness," continued Rupert. "Don't you remember how suddenly she sold her little house at the back of our garden, Gabrielle, and how Betty found her burning an English newspaper; and how queer and nervous and flurried she became all of a sudden; and then how she asked father to give her that £200 he had of hers in the bank; and how she hurried off without saying good-by to one of us? We have not heard a word about her from that day until now, when Phil's little letter has come."
"She never even bid mother good-by," continued Gabrielle in a pained voice. "Mother always stood up for Aunt Bella. She never allowed us to laugh at her or to grumble at her funny, tiresome ways."
"Did mother allow us to laugh at any one?" continued Rupert. "There was nothing at all remarkable in our mother being kind to poor Aunt Bella, for she was good to every one."
"But there was something strange in Aunt Bella not bidding our mother good-by," pursued Gabrielle, "for I think she was a little fond of mother, and mother was so weak and ill at the time. I saw tears in Aunt Bella's eyes once after mother had been talking to her. Yes, her going away was certainly very queer; but I have no time to talk any more about it now. I must go to my work. Rupert, shall we ride this afternoon? This is just the most perfect weather for riding before the great summer heat commences."