"Why, mother, mother," exclaimed Father Mason excitedly as he rushed
into the room. "Somebody's just come from the village with this,"
flourishing Letty's skirt wildly around, "and they say the train was
stopped right back of our house."

"For the land's sake, Job! Well, if that ain't our Letty's red
balmoral. How did it--is that the--Letty, was it you?" she finished up
rather disjointedly.

Letty nodded, unable to speak just then.

"Well, who'd 'a' thought it. So you saved the train! Do tell us all
about it."

"Mother, don't you think we'd better wait a bit till she looks a mite
stronger," suggested kind-hearted Job Mason.

"Well, I don't know but you're right, but I'm clean beat out. Don't
you think, Job, that we might bring Letty's surprise--but there's the
surprise walking in from the barn of itself. Tired of waiting, likely
as not."

"Yes, Letty," broke in Laurie. "Did you know your brother had come
home and that you saved his life this afternoon with that old red skirt
of yours?" So the mischief was out at last, and though the excitement
and everything nearly killed Letty, it didn't quite, or I don't think I
would have undertaken to tell this story. I don't like sad
Thanksgiving stories. Not that there aren't any; I only say I don't
like them, that's all.