name wouldn't be nothing to us--and her next letter will likely have
it more'n once."

Wilfred resumed the letter: "I must tell you good-by, now, for
Annabel's maid has come to help me dress for dinner, and it takes
longer than it did to do up the washing, at the cove; and is more
tiresome. But I like it. I like these fine, soft, beautiful
things. I like the big world, and I would like to live in it
forever and ever, if you could bring the dugout and be near enough
for me to run in, any time of the day. I wish I could run in this
minute and tell you the thousands and thousands of things I'll never
have time to write.

"Your loving, adoring, half-homesick, half-bewildered, somewhat
dizzy little girl,

"Lahoma.

"P. S. Nobody has been able to tell from word or look of mine that
I have ever been surprised at a single thing I have heard or seen.
You may be quite sure of that."


"I bet you!" cried Willock admiringly. "NOW, what do you think of
it?"

"She won't be there long," remarked Bill, waving his arm, "till she
finds out what I learned long ago--that there's nothing to it. If
you want to cultivate a liking for a dugout, just live a while in
the open."