Barbara was about to tell her brother all that had happened and how changed her father was, when something occurred to assure him of this more forcefully than Babs could have done. Their conversation was interrupted by a gentle tapping on the closed door, and Virginia’s voice called, “Babs, dear, Lucky just rode in with the mail. There are several letters for you and one that I thought you and Peyton might like to read together.” The young people had agreed to call Tom by his real name, although at first this would be hard to do. “Thank you,” Barbara replied, while the lad, having leaped to his feet, opened the door and took the letters from Virginia. A second later Babs exclaimed, “Oh, brother, here is one from poor dear father. I always think of him pityingly, ever since the day when I returned from school unexpectedly and found him pacing up and down in the library looking so desolate and so all alone. I didn’t understand then, but now I know that through the three years that you have been away he has been grieving for you. I shall never forget how he reached out his arms, when he saw me, and how tenderly he said, ‘You are like your mother, Barbara. She came to me when I needed her most just as you have come. If only that other Barbara had lived, all this would not have happened.’ He meant that our dear mother would have understood you better.” Then, after a moment Barbara added, “But brother, I wonder if you and I have ever really tried to understand our father. There must be a very kind heart under his reserve, else our mother, who was so joyous in her nature, would not have loved him. We never thought of it before that way, did we, brother?” “No,” the lad replied, and there was a quiver in his voice. “I was very young and very head-strong and I felt, if I wanted to ruin my life, as dad declared that I would, it was my own life and I ought to be permitted to ruin it. Read the letter, sister. What has our father written?” But, though Babs tried hard, she could not read aloud the message. The true feeling of her father, that had never been expressed in spoken words to his children, was revealed to them in the few heartbroken sentences that he had penned. “Barbara, my little girl, I hope you will want to go home with me. You are all I have now. I have searched this country over and I cannot find my son; my other Barbara’s little boy, and how she loved him! I wanted to find him that I might ask him to forgive me, for I believe that somehow the fault must have been mine.” “Babs! Little sister!” Peyton exclaimed as he sprang up. “Where is father now? I am going to him, at once, tonight if I can.” The other young people were surprised to learn that Peyton had decided to leave for Texas, that very night, but Virginia was indeed glad when she learned that he was to be reunited with his father. After supper the other boys accompanied Peyton to the Junction where he departed on the 10 o’clock train.