Well Miss Wood I would like to see you to-day. Do you know what I think Monte would do if I rode him out and let the rein slack? He would come straight to your gate for he is a horse of great judgement. (“That’s the first word he has misspelled,” said Molly.) I suppose you are sitting with George Taylor and those children right now. Then George will get old enough to help his father but Uncle Hewie’s twins will be ready for you about then and the supply will keep coming from all quarters all sizes for you to say big A little a to them. There is no news here. Only calves and cows and the hens are laying now which does always seem news to a hen every time she does it. Did I ever tell you about a hen Emily we had here? She was venturesome to an extent I have not seen in other hens only she had poor judgement and would make no family ties. She would keep trying to get interest in the ties of others taking charge of little chicks and bantams and turkeys and puppies one time, and she thought most anything was an egg. I will tell you about her sometime. She died without family ties one day while I was building a house for her to teach school in. (“The outrageous wretch!” cried Molly! And her cheeks turned deep pink as she sat alone with her lover’s letter.) I am coming the first day I am free. I will be a hundred miles from you most of the time when I am not more but I will ride a hundred miles for one hour and Monte is up to that. After never seeing you for so long I will make one hour do if I have to. Here is a flower I have just been out and picked. I have kissed it now. That is the best I can do yet. Molly laid the letter in her lap and looked at the flower. Then suddenly she jumped up and pressed it to her lips, and after a long moment held it away from her. “No,” she said. “No, no, no.” She sat down. It was some time before she finished the letter. Then once more she got up and put on her hat. Mrs. Taylor wondered where the girl could be walking so fast. But she was not walking anywhere, and in half an hour she returned, rosy with her swift exercise, but with a spirit as perturbed as when she had set out. Next morning at six, when she looked out of her window, there was Monte tied to the Taylor’s gate. Ah, could he have come the day before, could she have found him when she returned from that swift walk of hers! XXV. PROGRESS OF THE LOST DOG It was not even an hour’s visit that the Virginian was able to pay his lady love. But neither had he come a hundred miles to see her. The necessities of his wandering work had chanced to bring him close enough for a glimpse of her, and this glimpse he took, almost on the wing. For he had to rejoin a company of men at once. “Yu’ got my letter?” he said. “Yesterday.” “Yesterday! I wrote it three weeks ago. Well, yu’ got it. This cannot be the hour with you that I mentioned. That is coming, and maybe very soon.” She could say nothing. Relief she felt, and yet with it something like a pang.