“That ain't for me, Miss Todd,” was called out half a dozen times when B or F or S letters had gone into the wrong box. “Guess you must a-got it in the B's by mistake. Woolgathering, ain't ye?” Maria was her only confidante and her only comfort. The Boston girl laughed when she listened to her fears, and braced her up with fairy stories of the winnings of Miss Henders and Slathers and the money they were making; but the relief was only temporary. Soon the strain began to show itself in her face. “You ain't sick, Abbie, be you?” asked the mother. “No? Well, you look kind o' peaked. Don't work too hard, child. Maybe something's worryin' you--something you ain't told me. No man I don't know about, is there?” and the mother's sad eyes searched the daughter's. To all these inquiries the girl only shook her head, adding that the down mail was late and a big one and she had hurried to sort it. When the Boston mail arrived the next morning and was dumped from its bag upon her sorting-table, her own name flamed out on one of Keep & Co.'s envelopes. Abbie broke the seal and devoured its contents with bated breath, her fingers trembling: We are happy to inform you that the last sales of Rock Creek ranged from 13 to 14 3/4--15 bid at close. We confidently expect the stock will sell at 20 before the week is out. We shall be glad to receive your further orders as well as those of any of your friends. Abbie's heart gave a bound; the blood mounted to the roots of her hair. “Fifteen--twenty--why--why! that's two hundred dollars for me after paying Mr. Taylor.” The chill of doubt was over now. The fever of hope had set in. “Two hundred! Two hundred!” she kept repeating, as her fingers caressed the certificate snuggling close to her heart. When she swung wide the porch door and threw her arms around her astonished mother's neck, the refrain was still on her lips. It had been years since the hard-working girl had given way to any such joyous outburst. “Oh, I'm so happy! Don't ask me why--but I am!” The mother kissed her in reply and patted the girl's shoulder. “There _is_ somebody,” she sighed to herself. “And they've made up again”--and a prayer trembled on her lips. Her joy now became contagious. The expressman noticed it; so did Mrs. Skitson and the storekeeper. So did Mr. Taylor, who stopped his wagon and leaned half out to shake her hand. “You do look wholesome this morning, and no mistake, Miss Abbie” (he always called her so). “Don't forget what I told you--lots more where that come from”--and he drove on muttering to himself: “Ain't no finer woman in Taylorsville than Abbie Todd.” Keep & Co. letters arrived now by almost every mail. With these came a daily stock-list printed on tissue-paper, giving the sales on the exchange. Rock Creek was still holding its own between 13 and 15. “From my brokers,” she would say with a smile to Maria, falling into the ways of the rich.