in both of hers and pressed it.

"I don't want to die, for your sake," he said, "for if I was to go
under, it would be awkward for your--your friend. He might really have
to swing for it."

She released his hand suddenly, a pained look in her face. "Did you
want to put your letter in your coat pocket?" she asked.

"Yes."

She took the coat from a chair, gave it to him, and then went back to
the fireplace. He thrust his hand into the pocket and took out Sally
Dawson's last letter, and put it and her mother's into the same
envelope. As he was putting them away he found in the same pocket a
folded sheet of paper. He opened it. It was a letter from John
Wambush to his son Toot. Then Westerfelt remembered the paper Harriet
had picked up and given him in the street after the fight. Hardly
knowing why he did so, he read it. It was as follows:


"DEAR TOOT,--Me an yore mother is miserable about you. We have prayed
for yore reform day and night, but the Lord seems to have turned a deef
ear to our petitions. We hardly ever see you now an we are afraid you
are goin to git into serious trouble. We want you to give up
moonshinin, quit drinkin an settle down. We both think if you would
jest git you a good wife you would act better. I wish you would go an
marry that girl at the hotel--you know who I mean. I am as sorry for
her as I ever was for anybody, for she dont think you love her much.
She told me all about it the night the revenue men give you sech a