he might even walk from his home at Twin Coves, she said.

At night, however, she was obliged to admit that he could not be coming;
and then, quivering with honest anxiety for her old friend, Blossy
dipped into her emergency fund, which she kept in the heart of a little
pink china pig on a shelf in her room,--a pink china pig with a lid made
of stiff black hair standing on edge in the middle of his back,--and
sent a telegram to Captain Darby, asking if he were sick.

The answer came back slowly by mail, to find Blossy on the verge of a
nervous collapse, under the care of all the women in the house.

That letter Blossy never showed to Brother Abe, nor to any one else.
Neither did she treasure it in the sentimental trunk beneath the attic
eaves. The letter ran:


DEAR BETSY ANN: I never felt better in my life. Ain't been sick a
minute. Just made up my mind I was a old fool, and was going to quit. If
you change your intentions at any time, just drop me a postal. As ever,

SAM'L DARBY, ESQ.


"This, Captain Darby, makes your rejection final," vowed Blossy to
herself, as she tore the note into fragments and drowned them in the
spirits of lavender with which the sisters had been seeking to soothe
her distracted nerves.