“Business,” replied Laney bruskly, and strode out of the house.
Porcupine, who had also come down, lingered a moment to tell her she looked prettier each time that he saw her.
Miss Livingston’s letter read:
Mr. John Laney
deer sir. i take a few minutes to tell you how glad i was to heer from you Away off in montana i have not got Much Noos to rite but i will explain abot Myself i am a suthoner and quite Dark to my Father was a rice planter before the war which ruhined us i hav a good Voice and sing in the Quire i danz most evry Danc goin i have a Stiddy incom and make hansom presints to annybody i Like if i met a perfect Genelman i wold Marry him i cannot rite annymore Today bekaws i hay Piz to make rite offen to
Miss Mayme Livingston
i think your Ritin is good i wish you wold send your Fotegraf
Laney’s brow was clouded as he folded the letter. “She ain’t much of a scholar,” he said. “You hardly ever see a scholar use little ‘i’s.’”
“What differunce does dat make when she’s got a stiddy income?” replied Porcupine quickly. “And den what she said about handsome presents. Sure, she’s a hairess, I tank.”
Laney brightened at these reminders, and immediately set about composing another letter calculated to impress the wealthy, if unlettered, Miss Livingston.