"She needn't read 'em unless she wants to, need she, Zoeth?" he said.
"I--I didn't mean for her to do that."

Mr. Hamilton's face expressed doubt and disapproval.

"Humph!" he said and that was all.

Mary returned bearing the packet of letters, some of which she proceeded
to read. Crawford had spent the summer either at his home in Carson
City or in camping with his father in the Sierras, where he had shot and
fished and apparently enjoyed himself hugely. The letters were frank
and straightforward, full of fun and exuberance, the sort of letters
a robust, clean-minded young fellow ought to write and sometimes does.
They were not sentimental; even Isaiah, with what Captain Shadrach
termed his "lovesick imagination," would not have called them so.

The partners and Mr. Chase listened with interest to the reading of the
letters and expressed their approval. Shadrach's applause was loudest of
all, but he seemed to find difficulty in meeting his niece's eye. Just
before bedtime, after Zoeth and Isaiah had gone upstairs and he
was locking up for the night, Mary, whom he supposed had gone also,
reentered the dining-room and stood before him.

"Uncle Shad," she said severely, "come here a minute and sit down. I
want to talk with you."

She led him to the big rocker. Then she took the little one beside it.

"Now, look me in the face," she commanded. "No," not out of the