"Miss Margaret Spencer," and then, in the crabbed handwriting of my
dear old landlady, "care of Mrs. Richard Graham."

I opened the letter slowly. It bore a New Orleans heading, and a date
three days before.

"Dear little girl:

"A year is a long time between letters, isn't it? But you know I told
you when I left that the chances were Slim for getting a letter back
from the wild territory where I was going, and I found when I reached
there that 'slim' was hardly the word. I wrote you twice, but have
no hope that the letters ever reached you. But now I am back in God's
country, or shall be when I get North, and of course, my first line
is to you. I am writing this to the old place, knowing it will be
forwarded if you have left there.

"I shall be in New York two weeks from today, the 24th. Of course I
shall go to my old diggings. Telephone me there, so that I can see you
as soon as possible. I am looking forward to a real dinner, at a real
restaurant, with the realest girl in the world opposite me the first
day I strike New York, so get ready for me. I do hope you have been
well and as cheerful as possible. I know what a struggle this year
must have been for you.

"Till I see you, dear, always your

"JACK."

I finished the reading of the letter with mingled feelings of joy and