"It seems that ages ago when the gods, or maybe the demons, were making over plans and specifications of the infernal region, Chicago was mentioned and considered by the committee. When it came to a vote for choice of sites the place that won had only three more votes than Chicago. They didn't locate the brimstone plant here, and from what I can learn Chicago was a candidate for both the plant and the honor. It was a mistake on somebody's part, as Chicago is certainly an ideal place for it." But the letter discussed mostly the things of Macochee, where Marley's spirit still dwelt. The passages Lavinia most liked, of course, were those in which he declared his love for her; it was the first love-letter she had ever received, and this tender experience went far to compensate her for the loneliness she felt in his absence. It grew upon her after she had read her letter many times, that it would be a kindness to take it over and read to Mrs. Marley those parts, at least, that were not personal. It was a hard thing for Lavinia to do; she had a fear of Mrs. Marley; but she felt more and more the kindness of it, and so in the morning she set out. Lavinia was surprised and a little disappointed, when Mrs. Marley told her that she too had received in the same mail a letter from Glenn. It somehow took away from her own act, the more when Mrs. Marley calmly passed her letter over for Lavinia to read. Lavinia, who had not been able to resist a pang that Marley had written his mother quite as promptly as he had written her, found some consolation in the fact that his letter to his mother was not nearly so long as his letter to her, and it contained, too, the same information; in some instances, identical phrases, as letters do that are written at the same time. She felt that she should be happy in them both, and she wished she could determine which of the letters had been written first. After she had read Mrs. Marley's letter, she could not speak for a moment; the letter closed with a description of the sensations it gave Marley to open his trunk and come across the Bible his mother had packed in it. But she controlled herself, and when she had finished reading parts of her own letter to Mrs. Marley, she said: "Well, he seems to be in good spirits, doesn't he? He writes so amusingly of everything." Mrs. Marley looked up at Lavinia with a curious smile. "Why, don't you see?" she said. "What?" asked Lavinia, glancing in alarm at the two letters which she still held in her lap. "Why, the poor boy is dying of homesickness; that's what makes him write in that mocking vein." "Do you think that is so?" Lavinia leaned forward. "Why, I know it," replied Mrs. Marley, with a little laugh. "He's just like his father." For a moment Lavinia felt a satisfaction in Marley's loneliness, but she denied the satisfaction when she said: "He'll get over it, after a while." "Not for a long while, I'm afraid," said Mrs. Marley. "Not until some one can be with him."