At first he only touched them up; I couldn't see that we were getting home so fast; but in a minute a cornfield passed like a streak, a piece of woods flew by a dark blur, a bridge never had time to rattle, and we began to rock from side to side a little. Then I gripped the top supports with one hand, the mail with the other, and hung on for dear life. I took one good look at father. His feet were on the brace, his face was clear, even white, his eyes steely, and he never moved a muscle. When Jo thought it was funny, that he was loose in the pasture, and kicked up a little behind, father gave him a sharp cut with the whip and said: "Steady boy! Get along there!" Sometimes he said, "Aye, aye! Easy!" but he never stopped a mite. We whizzed past the church and cemetery, and scarcely touched the Big Hill. People ran to their doors, even to the yards, and I was sure they thought we were having a runaway, but we were not. Father began to stop at the lane gate, he pulled all the way past the garden, and it was as much as he could do to get them slowed down so that I could jump out by the time we reached the hitching rack. He tied them, and followed me into the house instead of going to the barn. I ran ahead calling: "Shelley! Where is Shelley?" "What in this world has happened, child?" asked mother, catching my arm. "Her letter has come! Her Paget letter! The one you looked for until you gave up. It's come at last! Oh, where is she?" "Be calmer, child, you'll frighten her," said mother. May snatched the letter from my fingers and began to read all that was on it aloud. I burst out crying. "Make her give that back!" I sobbed to father. "It's mine! I found it. Father, make her let me take it!" "Give it to her!" said father. "I rather feel that it is her right to deliver it." May passed it back, but she looked so disappointed, that by how she felt I knew how much I wanted to take it myself; so I reached my hand to her and said: "You can come along! We'll both take it! Oh where is she?" "She went down in the orchard," said mother. "I think probably she's gone back where she was the other day." Gee, but we ran! And there she was! As we came up, she heard us and turned. "Shelley!" I cried. "Here's your letter! Everything is all right! He's coming, Shelley! Look quick, and see when! Mother will want to begin baking right away!" Shelley looked at me, and said coolly: "Paddy Ryan! What's the matter?" "Your letter!" I cried, shoving it right against her hands. "Your letter from Robert! From the Paget man, you know! I told you he was coming! Hurry, and see when!" She took it, and sat there staring at it, so much like father, that it made me think of him, so I saw that she was going to have to come around to it as we did, and that one couldn't hurry her. She just had to take her time to sense it. "Shall I open it for you?" I asked, merely to make her see that it was time she was doing it herself.