THE CRYING IN THE NIGHT "My dearest daughter," the letter began; it was so my grandmother always addressed Mary Champion.

"We are pleased with the fine accounts of how Bawn is enjoying herself and your gaieties and the old friends you have met.

The house is very lonely without Bawn, and I miss your coming, and there has been no letter from Theobald since you went.

Perhaps Bawn has had one.

We seem to realize that we are old and our children dead and their children away from us, all at once." The letter went on to talk of trivial and ordinary things, but my grandmother was bad at deception, and one felt that her thoughts were not in the things she told, but that they were written with an intention to conceal something.