"Yes, dear, of course; and you never made a mistake in your life; that is, never but once."
"When was that?" asked Clara curiously.
"When you said 'No' to me night before last. Won't you reconsider it, and—"
"Where do you suppose Amy Goodrich is now?" interrupted the young lady. "Do you know, I have fancied at times, that Mr. Falkner learned something on his trip last fall, that he has not told us?"
George opened his eyes. "What makes you think that?"
"Oh, because; somehow he seems so different since he returned."
But George shook his head. "I thought so too for a while," he replied; "but I talked with him just the other day, and I'm afraid he's given up all hope. He works to hide the hurt. But I'll tell you one thing, girlie, if anything could make a Christian of me, it would be Dick's life. There's something more than human in the way he stands up against this thing."
Then Dick received another letter, from a post office in Texas.
"Dere Dikkie: I take my pen in hand to let u no that Ime wel an hoape u ar the same. Jim Whitly is ded he don tried to nife me an i fixed him. he wanted to hire me to kil u fer some papers an we was in you ol caben kross the river from the still. He said ter tel u thet he lied to u an that Amy is pure. I don't no what he means but thot u ort ter no. I skipped—burn this. your daddys pard.