"Your face is blank sincerity, as usual," she said smiling, "but you never deceive me with your voice. Your voice reveals every attempt at deception. Tell me what you mean."
His voice was sincere now. "I am married to a farm and laboring together with God. After hearing Terry's talk, I am more than ever determined to continue to do my part, working in the light as He gives me the power to see the light."
"Percy, dear," she asked, "did you know the bride whose wedding cards you received yesterday?"
"Don't you remember what I told you of Adelaide West, Mr. West's daughter?" he queried.
"I thought so," said the mother. She stepped to Percy's home-made desk, and from one of the pigeon holes, drew out a bunch of letters, and selected the top and bottom letters from the pile.
"Here are the first and last letters you have received from Mr. West. Did you ever see this?" She drew out a crumpled piece of paper and placed it in his hand.
"Her Grandma had not consented," he read. "What does that mean?"
"I do not know and I did not know when I read it three years ago. It came in your first letter from Mr. West. I thought you had not found it in the envelope, but you gave me the letter to read and I found it. I left it in the letter, but never till to-day did I feel that I ought to mention it to you. Yesterday you received a letter with two cards; but you read only one of them to me."
"But I saw the other was only the wedding announcement, and I left them both in the letter for you to read."
"And I read them both," she said. "Read this."