He said that if I really wanted to understand some of the Sunday-school lessons I ought to go to the Holy Land, since there are lots of things there that haven't changed in two thousand years. He's been there and so has his daughter. He brought back ever so many photographs, and he's asked me to drop in some evening and look at them, as it may help me in making the boys see things clearly. It was very kind of him, wasn't it? I think I shall go up some night next week. I've been here nearly three months now, and Mr. Stanwood's will be the first private house I shall have been to--and in Auburnvale I knew everybody and every door was open to me. I feel it will be a real privilege to see what the house of a rich man like Mr. Stanwood is like. I'll write you all about it. And some day I'll buy you a house just as fine as his. That some day seems a long way off, sometimes, don't it? JACK. X NEW YORK, Dec. 4, 1894. DEAR MIRIAM,--You have never before answered so promptly, and so I write back the very day I get your letter. I begin by saying I don't understand it--or at least I don't want to understand it. You ask me not to accept Mr. Stanwood's invitation. Now that's perfectly ridiculous, and you know it is. Why shouldn't I go to Mr. Stanwood's house if he asks me? He's a rich man, and very influential, and has lots of friends. He's just the kind of man it's very useful for me to know. You ought to be able to see that. I've got to take advantage of every chance I get. If I ever start in business for myself, it will be very helpful if I could find a man like Mr. Stanwood who might be willing to put in money as a special partner. Fact is, I'm afraid you are jealous. That's what I don't like to think. But it seems to me I can see in your letter just the kind of temper you were in last Fourth of July when I happened to get in conversation with Kitty Parsons. Your eyes flashed then and there was a burning red spot on your cheeks, and I thought I'd never seen you look so pretty. But I knew you hadn't any right to be mad clear through. And you were then, as you are now. I hadn't done anything wrong then, and I'm not going to do anything wrong now. Jealousy is absurd, anyhow, and it's doubly absurd in this case! You know how much I love you--or you ought to know it. And you ought to know that a rich man like Mr. Stanwood isn't going to ask a clerk in Fassiter, Smith & Kiddle's up to his house just on purpose to catch a husband for his daughter. I guess I've got a pretty good opinion of myself. You told me once I was dreadfully stuck up--it was the same Fourth of July you said it, too. But I'm not conceited enough to think that a New York girl like Miss Stanwood would ever look at me. I don't trot in her class. And a railroad president isn't so hard up for a son-in-law that he has to pick one up on the church steps. So you needn't be alarmed about me.