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effusive in her descriptions. Frank was so smart. Frank was so handsome. Frank was so witty. You should have heard Frank go on the other night.
    “Who is this fellow Frank?” she asked Ernest one morning, peering over the pages of the letter that she was reading for the third time since it had arrived the afternoon before.
    Ernest, who never spoke without first gathering his thoughts, paused in mid-bite, then deliberately finished chewing and swallowing his food before responding.
    “Sounds to me like Claire’s got a beau,” he said in his laconic Midwestern drawl. “Don’t see anything wrong with that.”
    “But do you think it’s proper for her to be running around Chicago with a man we’ve never met? And unchaperoned at that?”
    With the hint of a smile tickling the corners of his mouth, Ernest raised one eyebrow and said, “Well, now, I don’t seem to recall you being too concerned about chaperones when you and I were courting. And, if I’m not mistaken, you were younger than Claire is now.”
    Looking at him teasing her, with that twinkle in his eye, she softened for a moment. But then she raised her chin and squared her shoulders.
    “That doesn’t change anything. I know you. I don’t know this Frank person. I think we have a right to be concerned.”
    “We?”
    “Yes. Our daughter… your daughter, is gallivanting around the city with a man we know nothing about. We’ve never met him. We don’t know anything about his family. He could be married, for heaven’s sake.”
    Ernest looked at her for a moment, then nodded with exaggerated solemnity. “If it’s gotten to the point that gallivanting is involved…”
    “Ernest.”
    He knew that tone and raised his hands in mock surrender.
    “I’ll send a wire to Nancy and ask her if she can tell us something about this gentleman.”
    The letter from Nancy arrived a week later. As Ernest handed her the envelope, she saw that it had been opened. She looked closely at Ernest’s face to see if it betrayed any emotion, but he was as unreadable as always.
    She carried the envelope into the parlor, sat, and retrieved the single sheet of paper.
    “Dear Ernie and Marvella,” Nancy began. “I hope this letter finds you well. Words cannot express what a joy it has been having Claire here. She is a wonderful young woman, and you have every right to be proud of her.
    “You have asked about Frank. He and Claire have become quite close, and they make a handsome couple. Now, because you have inquired, I feel it is my duty to be as forthcoming as I can. First, let me tell you that Frank is an extremely polite young man. He is quiet at first, but when he lets his guard down, he can be very funny. He is intelligent without being overbearing. He has been studying law in New York, and I understand he has only one more semester before he will graduate. About his family, I don’t know much. His sister, Rachel, has been a boarder with me for the past two years, and I have had no complaints with her.
    “Now,” she continued, “I will tell you one thing that you must know. I mention this not because I find it to be an issue myself, but only because I think you would consider it important and would want to know.”
    Marvella felt a chill, and her grip on the page tightened.
    “Frank is of the Semitic race. You would not know it to look at him. His features are a little dark, but he appears normal to me. His sister, by the way, is quite fair, and I had no idea she was a Jewess until she mentioned it last Christmas. Now, as I say, I have no objections to this type of thing. But I know that it can be a problem for others…”
    She allowed the letter to fall into her lap.
    After a moment, Ernest crossed the room and gently retrieved the sheet of paper. Taking a seat across from her on the divan, he fixed her with a level gaze. They sat that way for at least a minute, neither saying anything, the stillness broken only by the rhythmic tick-tock of the pendulum