When you can conveniently give me a thought, do. And when are you coming back? I hope I shall not shock you unduly--but it's that little sister of the Morrells that is the matter, Elizabeth Arnold--Betty we call her. I've got to marry her as soon as I can. I'll never be able to do any serious business again until I get her behind the coffee-urn. She haunts me day and night and then when I see her--she laughs at me! We've been over to look at that church where you and Con were married. Betty likes it, but prefers her own folk to stray old women and lost kids. We think September would be a jolly month to be married in, but Betty refuses to set a day until she finds out if she approves of my people! That's the way _she_ puts it. She says she wants to find out if you believe in women's voting, for if you don't, she knows she never could get on with you. She believes that the thing that makes women opposed, does other things to them--rather unpleasant, unfriendly things. I told her your sentiments and then she asked about Con. She says she wouldn't trust the freest woman in the East if she were married to a slave-believing man. By all this you will judge what a comical little cuss Betty is, but all the same I am quite serious in urging you to come home before I grow desperate. BRACE. Truedale looked at Lynda in blank amazement. "I'd forgotten about the sister," he said, inanely. "I think, dear, we'll _have_ to go home. I remember once when we were quite little, Brace and I, mother had taken me for a visit and left him at home. He sent a letter to mother--it was in printing--'You better come back,' he said; 'You better come in three days or I'll do something.' We got there on the fourth day and we found that he had broken the rocking chair in which mother used to put him to sleep when he was good!" "The little rowdy!" Truedale laughed. "I hope he got a walloping." "No. Mother cried a little, had the chair mended, and always said she was sorry that she had not got home on the third day." "I see. Well, Lyn, let's go home to him. I don't know what he might break, but perhaps we couldn't mend it, so we'll take no chances." Truedale and Lynda had walked rather giddily upon the heights; the splendour of stars and the warm touch of the sun had been very near them; but once they descended to the paths of plain duty they were not surprised to find that they lay along a pleasant valley and were warmed by the brightness of the hills. "It's--home, now!" whispered Truedale as he let himself and Lynda in at the front door, "I wish Uncle William were here to welcome us. How he loved you, Lyn."