Miss Arabella's sensitive face flushed. "I guess it's a boot advertisement again," she ventured. "I got one year before last." "No, it ain't." Miss Long reappeared with the missive, examining it minutely. "Them advertising things are open, and this one's sealed. It's got writing on the inside, too, 'stead o' print; I can make that much out through the envelope, only I can't read a word of it. It's from a place called Nugget Hill. Who do you know there?" Miss Arabella took the letter, her reticent soul shrinking from the frank inquisitiveness. "I don't know anybody," she said honestly. "I never heard of the place." "Miss Weir was in here, a minit ago, an' I showed it to her, an' she said that was the name of a place in the Klondyke. Who on earth would be writing to you all the way from there?" Miss Arabella suddenly crushed the letter into her pocket; her face turned white. "I--I want a pound o' that green tea, Ella Anne, please," she stammered hurriedly. "Aren't you goin' to read it?" asked Miss Long, reaching for the tea-scoop. "I ain't in any hurry," faltered Miss Arabella, "but I want the tea--quick!" "Well, if you ain't a caution! Here, give it to me. I'll read it for you, if you like." "Oh, no, thanks, Ella Anne, I'd rather wait." There was panic in the little woman's voice. "I--I _always_ wait quite a _long_ while before I open my letters." "Well, my gracious!" grumbled Miss Long. As she measured out the tea, and bound it up, she kept an inquiring eye upon her customer, and could not help seeing that she was greatly agitated. "Well, sakes! I could no more do that than fly. Why, mebby some one's left you a fortune." Miss Arabella made no reply. She hurriedly tucked the parcel under her shawl, and forgetting to pay for her purchase, made for the door. "Likely Wes an' me'll be over to William's to-night for a sing, so you can run in an' tell us all about it then," Miss Long called after her. Miss Arabella paid no heed. Just now she cared not what the future might hold, she must get beyond all prying eyes immediately, and see what that letter contained. She ran along the sodden pathway, splashing unheedingly through the mud and snow, and repeating to herself, over and over again, that he must be living, he must be, after all. Without waiting to take off her wet shawl, and all unheeding Polly's loud and profane complaint that times were dull, she fled to the safety of her spare bedroom. She pulled down the window-blind, till the place was all in darkness, dragged the chair against the door, sat upon it, and with shaking hand drew the letter from her pocket. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were shining like stars, and she was trembling from head to foot. She opened the envelope with tender care and unfolded the well-filled sheets. Her devouring eyes seemed to take them all in at a glance.