The sun had long since disappeared behind the big purple mountains and even the warm afterglow in the eastern sky had faded into a pearly opalescent gray when the two reached the edge of the bluff nearest the house.
“Oh! The milking!” cried Moira aghast, as she came in sight of the house.
“Great Caesar! I was going to help,” exclaimed the doctor.
“Too bad,” said the girl penitently. “But, of course, there's Smith.”
“Why, certainly there's Smith. What a God-send that chap is. He is always on the spot. But Cameron is home. I see his horse. Let us go in and face the music.”
They found an excited group standing in the kitchen, Mandy with a letter in her hand.
“Oh, here you are at last!” she cried. “Where have you—” She glanced at Moira's face and then at the doctor's and stopped abruptly.
“Hello, what's up?” cried the doctor.
“We have got a letter—such a letter!” cried Mandy. “Read it. Read it aloud, Doctor.” She thrust the letter into his hand. The doctor cleared his throat, struck an attitude, and read aloud:
“My dear Cameron: