Chapter 22
A BLANK CARD. The next day at noon Lena brought me up a card on her tray. It was a perfectly blank one. "Miss Van Burnam's maid said you sent for this," was her demure announcement. "Miss Van Burnam's maid is right," said I, taking the card and with it a fresh installment of courage. Nothing happened for two days, then there came word from the kitchen that a bushel of potatoes had arrived. Going down to see them, I drew from their midst a large square envelope, which I immediately carried to my room. It failed to contain a photograph; but there was a letter in it couched in these terms: "Dear Miss Butterworth, "The esteem which you are good enough to express for me is returned. I regret that I cannot oblige you. There are no photographs to be found in Mrs. Van Burnam's rooms. Perhaps
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