fitted Clara for her trip to the country. By the time Mrs. Atwood's
reply reached Mildred, and Roger's hearty answer came back in response
to Belle's characteristic note, she was ready to go. "There's a
man's hand for you," cried Belle exultantly as she exhibited Roger's
bold chirography. "It's a hand that can be depended upon, strong
and ready."

Mildred smiled as she replied, "You're welcome to it, Belle."

"You needn't smile so placidly," she retorted, with an ominous nod.
"We are not through with Roger Atwood yet."

Perhaps quotations from two letters written by Clara to Mildred and
Belle, and received a week later, will form a satisfactory ending
to this chapter. Clara had been taught to read and write in the
public schools of the city, and but little more. In later years
she had occasionally found opportunity to attend some of the night
schools established for those whose only leisure came after the
busy day was over, and so had learned to use her pen with tolerable
correctness. In waiting upon the educated people who frequented the
shop she had caught, with the aptness of an American girl, a very
fair power of expressing herself in speech. Writing a letter,
however, was a formidable affair, in which she had scarcely any
experience. Her missives, therefore, were very simple, and somewhat
defective in outward form, but they suggested some interesting
facts.

"DEAR MILLIE (ran the first): I'm very sad and hapy. The Countrys
like heven. All are so kind. Even the dog dosen't grole at me, and
Mr. Roger says that's queer for he groles at everybody. I feel so