"Yes."
"And you can get ready, can't you, Myra?"
"Certainly; it won't take me long to pack. If you'll excuse me I'll go and do it now, and get it off my mind."
When Myra had gone in, Bartrow took the message and read it again. "This is no woman's job," he objected. "Let me go down with you and straighten it out."
"No, you mustn't, Dick; you have lost a clear week as it is."
She rose and went to the end of the porch, whither he presently followed her. "You'll need a man," he insisted.
"I shall have poppa."
"Yes, but he's no good—only to pay the bills."
"No matter; I shall get along all right."