Jim is dreadfully on my mind, too. What do you think has happened to him? He has “got religion.” Yes, I know you are laughing. Jim, the tease of the world, Jim with freckles and warts and funny words, and the very _dickens_ in him. But it is true. Mr. Summers did it—talked to him in the woods, and Jim “saw the light.” And now he wants to be a preacher like Mr. Summers. You ought to hear him preaching to the horses when he combs them down. I listen. Perhaps I ought not to. I don’t do it to make fun, you may be sure. I do it because the poor boy is so earnest and surprising. You can’t think what beautiful things he says. Nights he studies the Bible and some books Mr. Summers gives him. He drives away to town once every week to help with the Epworth League meeting, and he has got up some sort of a society among the boys, and has induced the members to pledge themselves not to drink whiskey or chew tobacco, or use profane words, or do any other horrid thing. Our Jim! Carin, we’re all growing up, aren’t we? You with your long dresses and touch-me-not air, and Annie Laurie, one of our leading business persons! And Sam Disbrow buying stock in Annie Laurie’s dairy, and Hi Kitchell doing draying, and Dick Heller going in the bank, and Keefe O’Connor sending me the catalogue of his “Autumn Exhibit.” You can fancy how Keefe played up Sunset Gap in his pictures! I could tell from the names where he had painted about half of them. I’ll send you the catalogue. But return it, won’t you? It seems like a memento of that queer, wild, happy summer at the Gap. That was the last summer we really spent together. To be sure I have had glimpses of you, but usually you have been away on your wonderful journeys with your father and mother, and I have had to go about the mountain roads alone. But I haven’t minded, Carin, and you mustn’t think that I have. I tried to picture the beautiful places you were in, and the parties you were going to, and the pictures and palaces you were seeing, and I knew that if I was thinking of you, that you were thinking of me, too. It kept my heart warm; it peopled the lonely mountain roads.