A LETTER FROM DOROTHY
“It seems an age, doesn’t it, since we’ve had a real meeting,” said the founder of the Vigilantes, “and yet it’s only nine weeks ago this very identical day. I guess it’s because the places are so far apart and so different. The last time ’twas on the big rock back of the Retreat, and now it’s away out here in the Land of our Dreams. Oh, you’ll never, never know what it’s meaning to me to have you all out here, because it’s one of the things you feel inside but can never, never tell!”
“I guess we know,” cried Priscilla, “because we’re feeling it, too! Every day I think I’ll die if I get any happier, but I guess happiness is one of the things you can keep pouring into your heart like love—without its overflowing.”
“It’s the very same way about pouring it out, too,” said Mary. “There’s always plenty left like the oil in the Bible story.” 147
“Aren’t the mountains way off there blue?” cried Vivian. “I think blue’s the happiest color in the world. I’ll never say that I feel blue again now that I’ve seen the mountains.”
They had climbed to the summit of Spruce Ridge for their Vigilante meeting—the first formal one they had held since their arrival in Virginia’s country. A letter from Dorothy, coming an hour ago, bore the inscription, “To be read at a Vigilante meeting,” and in order to be honest to the letter, as well as in spirit, they had decided upon a place apart and assembled.
“After all, it’s better to come away like this, isn’t it?” asked Virginia. “There’s a queer, common feeling that doesn’t come when we just sit on the porch and talk. And I love this sweep of country from the Ridge. It’s real Vigilante land. Now let’s have the letter, Priscilla. I’m wild to hear it. It’s the very first we’ve had in a month.”
The secretary of the order broke a large amount of sealing-wax, unfolded sheets of blue stationery, and began: 148
“‘A Piece of Heaven in California,
“‘Aug. 11,19—.