He felt his face grow very red and hot as he straightened it out upon his knees, his heart fluttering with the thought of the possibility that it might have been some little liking for the writer that had prevented its immediate destruction. There were some words in pencil along the margin; he held it up to the light and slowly deciphered them. He was not much accustomed to reading writing and this had become slightly blurred: but he made it out clearly at last; a jesting remark about his mistakes in spelling and grammar, which were many and glaring. "I wouldn't ha' believed it of her!" he exclaimed, crimsoning with anger and shame as he flung the torn and crumpled sheet into the fire of his forge, the dolls after it. He caught up his hammer and fell to work again, muttering to himself, "It's her writin'; there can't be no mistake; fur it's just like what she writ me afore. And I wouldn't a' believed it of her, I wouldn't; I thought she'd a kind heart and would make allowance fur them that hasn't had the same chance as her." He had not been wrong in his estimate of Mildred. She would never have wounded his feelings intentionally. She had a habit of writing her thoughts on the margin of what she was reading, and the words had been carelessly traced there with no expectation that they would ever be seen by any eye but her own. Nor would they but for the mischievous meddling of the children. She set no value upon the letter; did not miss it till months afterwards, and then supposed she had destroyed it, though she could not distinctly remember having done so. In the meantime Gotobed kept his own counsel, concealing his hurt as well as he could and trying not to hate the hand that had inflicted it. [Illustration] Chapter Eighteenth. "Farewell, a long farewell." THE Keiths were scarcely more than well settled in their new home when Miss Stanhope announced her intention of returning to Ohio almost immediately. This news was received by the family with something akin to consternation. "How could they do without her?" they asked; "didn't everybody need her every day of their lives, from father and mother down to Annis?" "Ah," she answered smiling, though her eyes were dim with unshed tears, "you'll have each other and will soon find that you can get on very well indeed without your blundering old auntie. But the question is how shall she do without you? The old Lansdale home will be very lonely with no little feet pit-patting about it." "Then what makes you go, Aunt Wealthy?" chorused the children, clinging to her with many a loving caress. "I must, my darlings; there's business I have to attend to; and I feel that the ague is breaking me down." "I fear that is too true," Mrs. Keith said, with a strong effort to speak cheerfully, "and therefore I will not entreat you to stay, dear auntie; but rather urge your departure before the sickly season sets in.