"Don't seem to know exactly whar she does want to go," remarked Jim Hunter, breaking the silence which had followed her departure from the store. "Who is she, anyway?"
"Oz Fergerson's daughter Hettie," replied Worthy, leaning against the door-jamb. "She don't look overly well; I reckon that's why she quit workin' at the hotel. She's dyin' to git a letter from some'rs; she comes reg'lar every day an' goes away powerfully disappointed."
"Never seed her before as I know of," said Longfield, handing Worthy his basket of eggs.
The girl suddenly turned down the sidewalk. She passed Mrs. Webb's cottage and the bar and went into the hotel. Mrs. Floyd met her at the door.
"Mis' Floyd, I want to see Harriet," she said.
"She's up-stairs," replied Mrs. Floyd. "I'll call her; but you'd better go in to the fire."
The girl shook her head and muttered something Mrs. Floyd could not understand, so she left her in the hall.
Mrs. Floyd found Harriet in her room. "Hettie Fergerson is down-stairs and wants to see you," she said. "She still acts very strange. I asked her to go into the parlor, but she wouldn't."
"How do you do, Hettie?" said Harriet, as she came down the steps. "Come into the parlor; you look cold."
The girl hesitated, but finally followed Harriet into the warm room. They sat down before the fire, and there was an awkward silence for several minutes, then the visitor suddenly pushed back her bonnet and said, in a hard, desperate tone: