"'Tis for you, Lolita!" he cried. "My father read the marks. It is from Cripple Creek!"
"Oh, give me! give me!" cried Lola, flinging down a mud dish.
Jane had taken the letter. "It's for me, dear," she said, beginning to open it. "I'll read it aloud—" She paused. Her face had a gray color.
Lola held out her hands in a passion of joy and eagerness. "What does he say? Oh, hurry! Oh, let me have it!"
Jane suddenly crushed the letter, and her eyes were stern as she withdrew it resolutely from Lola's reaching fingers.
"No, Lola, no!" she said, in a sharp tone. "I—can't let you have this letter! I can't! I can't!"