lie Marr this
evening; Mollie's nerves are on the rampage again. I must rush."

With a wave of his hand the doctor hurried off. Mary Isabel lingered
for some time longer, leaning against the fence, looking dreamily out
to sea. The doctor was a very pleasant companion. If only Louisa would
allow neighbourliness! Mary Isabel felt a faint, impotent resentment.
She had never had anything other girls had: friends, dresses, beaus,
and it was all Louisa's fault--Louisa who was going to make her wear a
bonnet for the rest of her life. The more Mary Isabel thought of that
bonnet the more she hated it.

That evening Warren Marr rode down to the shore cottage on horseback
and handed Mary Isabel a letter; a strange, scrumpled, soiled, yellow
letter. When Mary Isabel saw the handwriting on the envelope she
trembled and turned as deadly pale as if she had seen a ghost:

"Here's a letter for you," said Warren, grinning. "It's been a long
time on the way--nigh fifteen years. Guess the news'll be rather
stale. We found it behind the old partition when we tore it down
today."

"It is my brother Tom's writing," said Mary Isabel faintly. She went
into the room trembling, holding the letter tightly in her clasped
hands. Louisa had gone up to the village on an errand; Mary Isabel
almost wished she were home; she hardly felt equal to the task of
opening Tom's letter alone. Tom had been dead for ten years and this
letter gave her an uncanny sensation; as of a message from the
spirit-land.

Fifteen years, ago Thomas Irving had gone to California and five years
later he had died there. Mary Isabel, who had idolized her brother,
almost grieved herself to death at the time.

Finally she opened the letter with ice-cold fingers. It had been
written soon after Tom reached California. The first two pages were
filled with descriptions of the country and his "job."

On the third Tom began abruptly:

Look here, Mary Isabel, you are not to let Louisa boss you
about as she was doing when I was at home. I was going to
speak to you about it before I came away, but I forgot. Lou is
a fine girl, but she is too domineering, and the more you give
in to her the worse it makes her. You're far too easy-going
for your own welfare, Mary Isabel, and for your own sake I
Wish you had more spunk. Don't let Louisa live your life for
you; just you live it yourself. Never mind if there is some
friction at first; Lou will give i