"Did you get the paper for us?" asked Margaret, showing two smiling
rows of milk-white teeth, while her eyes danced with anticipated
pleasure.

Mr. Markland shook his head.

"Why?" asked both the girls at once.

"The postmaster says it has been stopped."

"Stopped!" How changed were their faces and tones of voice.

"Yes. He says your father directed it to be stopped."

"That must be a mistake," said Margaret. "He would have told us."

Mr. Markland rode on, and the girls ran back into the house.

"Father, the postmaster says you have stopped the newspaper!"
exclaimed his daughters, breaking in upon Mr. Ashburn's no very
pleasant reflections on the low price of wheat, and the difference
in the return he would receive at ninety cents a bushel to what he
would have realized at the last year's price of a dollar
twenty-five.

"It's true," he replied, trenching himself behind a firm, decided
manner.

"But why did you stop it, father?" inquired the girls.