Norman Wylde sighed when he received the message, and turned away without a word. Going to his room, he dashed off a hasty letter to Pansy, explaining everything, and begged her consent to become his wife. Then he went down, and, finding Sue alone in the kitchen, gave her the letter to take to Pansy, liberally rewarding her for the service. Just outside Pansy’s door she came upon Juliette Ives, who said carelessly: “Give me that letter. I’ll hand it to Pansy.” She held up her hand, with a silver piece shining in its palm. Sue snapped at the bait, and immediately delivered up the precious letter, which Miss Ives hid in her pocket, then ran away to her own room. Her pale-blue eyes sparkled with fury as she read the tender love letter Norman Wylde had written to Pansy. “She shall never be his wife if I can prevent it!” she vowed bitterly. The impatient lover waited in vain for a reply to his letter, for Pansy did not come down that evening, and when he arose, very early the next morning, he learned, to his dismay, that Farmer Robbins had taken his niece away on the midnight train. He went impatiently to Mrs. Robbins, and she told him, in her cool, straightforward way, that Mr. Robbins had taken Pansy away because he did not approve of her flirting with young men. “But, my dear madam, my intentions were strictly honorable. I wished to marry Pansy,” he expostulated. “You are engaged to Miss Ives, ain’t you?” she returned curtly. “I was, but I am no longer. I broke off with her that I might ask Pansy Laurens to marry me.” He seemed so manly and straightforward that Mrs. Robbins must have been forced to believe in his sincerity had not her mind been poisoned beforehand by the slanders of Mrs. Ives. But the poison had done its work, and she looked on him as a liar and a libertine. So she answered curtly again: “Rich young men like you, Mr. Wylde, don’t marry poor working geerls like little Pansy Laurens. I’ve heerd all about your character from Mrs. Ives, sir, and I know you didn’t mean any good to Pansy, so her uncle up and took her away out o’ harm’s reach.” His black eyes flashed with anger. “I shall follow her!” he exclaimed hotly, and rushed out on the lawn, where Mrs. Ives was leisurely promenading under the trees. She cowered a little when she saw his handsome face so pale with anger, and his burning dark eyes fixed on her with such resentful passion. Controlling his fierce anger by a strong effort of will, he advanced toward her, and said, with forced calmness: “I am curious to know, Mrs. Ives, what kind of character you have given me to Mrs. Robbins, since it had the effect of incensing her so bitterly against me?” She tossed up her head defiantly, and replied: “It was your flirting with her niece that angered Mrs. Robbins.” His brow darkened, and he waved his hand, as if thrusting aside her petty subterfuge. “Mrs. Robbins told me that she had had my character from you.”