"You have heard of the Brotherhood of Man. It isn't a mere phrase when you think right. All,--all of us, children of one Father, all with rights to the same inheritance, what should make us cold or grudging, one toward another? What is to prevent our spontaneous gladness in another's success. His happiness and good fortune become ours. It is all in the family, you see. There are no limitations to be placed on an _infinite_ inheritance, are there? Our Father's love is impartial, and all that we ask in His name He has promised to give us. You couldn't ask in His name to eclipse Edna Derwent, could you? or to receive any other gift which would appeal to those two guests I hope you will turn out. These are small beginnings of great thoughts, Sylvia, but they point to that 'large place' where your consciousness belongs, and where Love waits to lead you." The pressure on the door of the girl's heart overwhelmed its resistance. She leaned her forehead against the shoulder so near her. Her breath caught in a sob. "I'll try," she breathed humbly, "I'll try." CHAPTER XI THINKRIGHT'S LETTER Back in the dingy offices of Calvin Trent the sunshine revealed time-honored ink stains and other immovable relics which held their own despite a thorough house-cleaning which Hannah had recently given the rooms. The judge had apologized to Dunham at the time. "Until this affair of the Lacey girl is settled," he said, "Miss Martha is liable to come in upon us at any time, and we might as well be prepared." "By all means," Dunham had responded devoutly. "Unless there is a chemical change brought about in the anteroom I shall be obliged to ask you to attend the door yourself." This particular sunshiny morning, as John was opening the mail, he found a letter beginning, "Dear Cal:" It was postmarked Maine, and he passed it over to his employer in silence. Judge Trent was reading the morning paper at the time, and just glancing at his cousin's writing, he clutched the sheet in his left hand and went on with his editorial. Dunham smiled down at his pile of correspondence. "Absence hasn't made the heart grow any fonder," he reflected. "The governor's interest in Curly Head appears to be about where it was." Then he thought of Miss Lacey and the contrasting eagerness with which she would greet a letter from Maine. He breathed an involuntary sigh of satisfaction that whatever the bulletin his own responsibility in the matter was over, and that the lesson he had received concerning the unwisdom of rushing in where relatives feared to tread was likely to last during his lifetime. "'M, h'm," breathed the judge at last, laying down the paper and setting his hat a little farther back on his head. His thought was evidently still busy with the morning news as his eyes moved vacantly to the letter; but beginning to read, the corners of his lips drew down, not in scorn, but with a movement habitual to him when interested.