h a letter from Claire.

"You're a _dear_," cried Nancy, hugging her treasures. "If you'll take
this pan of peas, Jonathan, I'll run off and read them!"

B'lindy watched Nancy disappear toward the orchard with mingled
amazement and disapproval. "There never was a letter _I_ got I'd set
by my work for! _That's_ a young one for you!"

Out in her Bird's-nest Nancy held up the two envelopes. "I'll save you
'til last, Daddy," she whispered, kissing the handwriting she loved.

Claire's letter was short and yet so like her that Nancy could have
believed her friend was there with her--talking to her.

"I'm perfectly miserable, and I can't let mother guess--she tries to
make everything so jolly for me. But I'm just plain homesick for
college and you girls. The summer isn't a bit what I'd planned. Barry
went away before I got home. Mother thought he'd come back but he
didn't, and the maddening thing is she won't tell me where he is. She
said Barry was 'getting settled.' Isn't that absurd? I suppose he's
gone off to the Canadian Rockies or maybe to Japan. But I don't see
why mother has to make a secret of it! The war's changed all the men I
know--none of them seem as nice. They're so restless and act so old.
But then, I'm restless, too, and feel as old as the hills. For
heaven's sake, Nancy, hurry up and do your duty by Anne's relatives and
come here to me--I need you!"

"Funny Claire," laughed Nancy, talking aloud in the way she had learned
at Happy House. "She's always trying to make herself think she's
miserable. But Barry _is_ a pill! Now, Daddy mine!"

Because she must make her moment of joy last as long as possible, she
spread out each page; she peeped into the envelope to be certain that
she had them all; she touched ever so lightly the penned lines; she
even sniffed joyously at the paper in a vain hope of detecting the
familiar odor of Havana tobacco.

The letter had been three weeks on its way. And it was in answer to
one Nancy had written to him from college, soon after Anne's plans to
go to. Russia had been completed.

"* * * * That is fine in Anne, but it seems to me, that in the
enthusiasm of her youth she's overlooking opportunities for service
closer at hand. These problems over here are so tremendous--they, need
a tried mind and the wisdom of years. You know, my dear, if you want
to do things to make this world better you can generally find them
waiting for you in your very own corne