New Orleans Legacy [antikvár]

The box was a mystery, and for that reason it was the most exciting gift Mary had ever received.Her friends looked at it, then at one another, unsure of what they should say. "Open it, Mary," exclauned one, trying to sound enthusiastic."Not yet," Mary said. She stroked the stained, battered old wooden box with her right hand. It was a gesture of love. Her left hand held the tantalizing letter that had accompanied the gift. The pages fluttered in her fingers, visible evidence of her emotion."Read it, Sue," she said, holding it out to her closest friend. "My voice is too shaky."Sue snatched it from her, politeness overcome by curiosity." 'My dearest Maiy,' " Sue read aloud, " 'this box is a gift from your mother.' " She glanced up at the other girls in the room. They looked as amazed as she felt. Everyone knew that Mrs. MacAlistair never even wrote to Mary. Gifts were unheard-of. It was her father who sent presents of expensive sweets and elaborately illustrated books, even though they were forbidden at the convent school. Sue returned hastily to the letter." 'Dearest Mary,' " she repeated, " 'this box is a gift from your mother, not from me. I have never seen what is3