“Ma Heger” had needed her help, was all that she said. Jane and Merry decided not to tell her about the night letter, for the suspense would be far harder for her to bear than it was for them.
But after a time Meg began to wonder why, at frequent intervals, one or another of the young people went to the top of the stone stairs, and through field glasses, gazed down the mountain road. It was two o’clock when the old stage was seen slowly ascending.
“I entirely forgot that the stage passes us on Saturday afternoon,” Dan exclaimed. “Of course, Bob and Gerry waited to ride up.”
But as the lumbering vehicle neared, the passengers were seen to be all adults—a west valley rancher, his wife and grown daughters. Then, just as the watchers had given up hope, the two laughing boys dropped from the back of the stage and ran up the stone stairs.
Paying no heed to the others, Bob leaped over to where Meg was standing, and making a deep bow, he handed her a yellow envelope.
“But this is for Merry,” the mountain girl told him.
“True enough!” and Bob gave the telegram to his sister. Opening it, she read:
“Franc Giguette, author of ‘The Star that Set.’ Book was great success! Publishers holding royalties, as they were uncalled for. Box in name of Eulalie Giguette at the First National Bank. Contains contracts and papers of value, also jewels. Await further advice.”
While all of the others congratulated the beautiful girl, Dan stood aside with sorrow in his heart. He had asked Meg to marry him when he thought her poor. Even then they would have had a long wait, for he had wanted to help his father for a time before he considered his own happiness.
Meg looked over at the lad whom she so loved. “Aren’t you also glad for me, Dan?” she asked.