Part 56 (1/2)

I yanked the letter from the bundle, and held it over. I THOUGHT I could read, but I was too scared to be sure. I thought it said in big, strong, upstanding letters, Miss Sh.e.l.ley Stanton, Groveville, Indiana.

And in the upper corner, Blackburn, Yeats and PAGET, Counsellors of Law, 37 to 39 State St., Chicago. I put my finger on the Paget, and looked into father's face. I was no fool after all. He was not a bit surer that HE could read than I was, from the dazed way he stared.

”You see!” I said.

”It says Paget!” he said, like he would come nearer believing; it if he heard himself p.r.o.nounce the word.

”I THOUGHT it said 'Paget,'” I gasped, ”but I wanted to know if you thought so too.”

”Yes, it's Paget plain enough,” said father, but he acted like there was every possibility that it might change to Jones any minute. ”It says 'Paget,' plain as print.”

”Father!” I cried, clutching his arm, ”father, see how fat it is!

There must be pages and pages! Father, it wouldn't take all that to tell her he didn't like her, and he never wanted to see her again.

Would it, father?”

”It doesn't seem probable,” said father.

”Father don't you think it means there's been some big mistake, and it takes so much to tell how it can be fixed?”

”It seems reasonable.”

I gripped him tighter, and maybe shook him a little.

”Father!” I cried. ”Father, doesn't it just look HURRY, all over?

Can't you speed up a little? They have all day to cool off. Oh father, won't you speed a little?”

”That I will!” said father. ”Get a tight hold, and pray G.o.d it is good word we carry.”

”But I prayed the one big prayer to get this,” I said. ”It wouldn't be sent if it wasn't good. The thing to do now is to thank the Lord for 'all his loving kindnesses,' like mother said.”

”Drive father! Make them go!”

At first he only touched them up; I couldn't see that we were getting home so fast; but in a minute a cornfield pa.s.sed like a streak, a piece of woods flew by a dark blur, a bridge never had time to rattle, and we began to rock from side to side a little. Then I gripped the top supports with one hand, the mail with the other, and hung on for dear life. I took one good look at father.

His feet were on the brace, his face was clear, even white, his eyes steely, and he never moved a muscle. When Jo thought it was funny, that he was loose in the pasture, and kicked up a little behind, father gave him a sharp cut with the whip and said: ”Steady boy! Get along there!”

Sometimes he said, ”Aye, aye! Easy!” but he never stopped a mite. We whizzed past the church and cemetery, and scarcely touched the Big Hill. People ran to their doors, even to the yards, and I was sure they thought we were having a runaway, but we were not. Father began to stop at the lane gate, he pulled all the way past the garden, and it was as much as he could do to get them slowed down so that I could jump out by the time we reached the hitching rack. He tied them, and followed me into the house instead of going to the barn. I ran ahead calling: ”Sh.e.l.ley! Where is Sh.e.l.ley?”

”What in this world has happened, child?” asked mother, catching my arm.

”Her letter has come! Her Paget letter! The one you looked for until you gave up. It's come at last! Oh, where is she?”

”Be calmer, child, you'll frighten her,” said mother.

May s.n.a.t.c.hed the letter from my fingers and began to read all that was on it aloud. I burst out crying.

”Make her give that back!” I sobbed to father. ”It's mine! I found it. Father, make her let me take it!”

”Give it to her!” said father. ”I rather feel that it is her right to deliver it.”