Venna turned to her friend impulsively.
"I couldn't mind anything from you, Sister Maddon, but you've guessed wrong this time. That letter ought to prove it to you."
"It proves nothing—except that Walter won't propose to a rich girl when he is without a cent and must soon go to war."
"How do you know that?" exclaimed Venna, her large eyes scanning her friend's face eagerly.
"Because he told me so!" came with another joyous ripple.
"You don't mean"—
"Yes, I do mean that your place is out West as soon as you can get there. We'll miss you here, but your place is with that good boy of ours as long as he is here. Don't lose time. He may be in France soon. He'll never propose to you, you'll have to show him how!"
Venna brought the car to a sudden standstill. The road was empty. She buried her face on Mother Maddon's shoulder and sobbed for joy. The mother's heart was touched.
"Tears of joy, aren't they, dear?" she said, patting the curls lovingly. "Just think how he feels, away out West. We mustn't lose any time."
—