"Nothing," said Miss Scroggs, "because I couldn't. Page fourteen was tore out of the book. So I went through all my books, and every page fourteen was tore out of every book. There was only one book in the house that had a page fourteen left in it." "And what did that say?" asked Mr. Gubb. "It said," said Miss Petunia, "'To one quart of flour add a cup of water, beat well, and add the beaten whites of two eggs.'" "Did you do all that?" inquired Mr. Gubb. "Well," said Miss Petunia, "I didn't see any harm in trying it, just to see what happened, so I did it." "And what happened?" asked Mr. Gubb. "Nothing," said Miss Petunia. "In a couple of days the water dried up and the dough got pasty and moulded, and I threw it out." "Just so!" said Philo Gubb. "You'd sort of expect it to get mouldy, but you wouldn't call it threatening at the first look." "No," said Miss Petunia. "And then I got this letter Number Two." She handed the second letter to Mr. Gubb. It ran thus:-- P. SCROGGS:-- A complete study of the history and antiquities of Diocese of Ossory fails to reveal the presence of a single individual bearing the name of Scroggs from the year 1085 to date. Like the first letter this was signed with a waved line. Mr. Gubb studied it carefully. "I don't see no sign of a threat in that," he said. "Not unless you should say it was belittling me to tell me to my face that no Scroggs ever lived wherever that says they didn't live," said Miss Petunia. "Now, here's the next letter." Mr. Gubb read it. It ran thus:-- MISS PETUNIA:-- For to-morrow: Rising temperature accompanied by falling barometer, followed by heavy showers. Lower temperature will follow in the North Central States and Northern Missouri. "I shouldn't call that exactly scurrilous, neither," said Mr. Gubb. "It ain't," said Miss Petunia, "and unless you can call a mention of threatening weather a threat, I wouldn't call it a threatening letter. And then I got this letter." She handed Mr. Gubb the fourth letter, and he read it. It ran:-- PETUNIA SCROGGS:-- Trout are rising freely in the Maine waters. The Parmacheene Belle is one of the best flies to use. Mr. Gubb, having read this letter, shook his head and placed the letter on top of those he had previously read. It was signed with the wiggle like the others. "Speaking as a deteckative," he said, "I don't see anything into these letters yet that would fetch the writer into the grasp of the law. Are they all like this?" "If you mean do they say they are going to murder me, or do they call me names," said Miss Scroggs, "they don't. Here, take them!" Mr. Gubb took the remaining letters and read them. There were about a dozen of them. While peculiar epistles to write to a maiden lady of forty-five years, they were not what one might call violent. They were, in part, as follows:-- PETUNIA:--