omewhere."

Bert saw that Anson was still ignorant of the real state of affairs,
but thought he would say nothing for the present.

"Yes: that's the best thing we can do. We'll send her right back, an'
take our chances on the crops. We can git enough to live on an' keep
her at school, I guess."

They sat silent for a long time, while the wind tore round the shed,
Bert spearing at the stick, and Anson watching the hens as they vainly
tried to navigate in the wind. Finally Anson spoke:

"The fact is, Bert, this ain't no place f'r a woman, anyway--such a
woman as Flaxen's gittin' to be. They ain't nothin' goin' on, nothin'
to see 'r hear. You can't expect a girl to be contented with this
country after she's seen any other. No trees; no flowers; jest a lot o'
little shanties full o' flies."

"I knew all that, Ans, a year ago. I knew she'd never come back here,
but I jest said it's the thing to do--give her a chance, if we don't
have a cent; now let's go back to the house an' tell her she needn't
stay here if she don't want to."

"Wha' d' ye s'pose was in that letter?"

"Couldn't say. Some girl's description of a pic-nic er somethin'." Bert
was not yet ready to tell what he knew. When they returned to the house
the girl was still invisible, in her room. Mrs. Green was busy clearing
up the dinner-dishes.

"I don't know's I ever see such a wind back to Michigan. Seems as if it
'u'd blow the hair off y'r head."

"Oh, this ain't nothin'. This is a gentle zephyr. Wait till y' see a
wind."

"Wal, I hope to goodness I won't never see a wind. Zephyrs is all I can
mortally stand."

Anson went through the little sitting-room and knocked on Flaxen's
door.

"Flaxie, we want to talk to yeh." There was no answer, and he came back
and sat down. Bert pointed to the letter which Flaxen had flung down on
the table. The giant took it, folded it up, and called, "Here's y'r
letter, babe."

The door opened a little, and a faint, tearful voice said:

"Read it, if ye want to, boys." Then the door closed tightly again, and
they heard her fling herself on the bed. Anson handed the letter to
Bert, who read it in a steady voice.

DEAR DARLING: I have good news to tell you. My uncle was out
from Wisconsin to see me and he was pleased with what I had
done, and he bought out Mr. Ford, and gave me the whole half
interest. I'm to pay him back when I please. Ain't that
glorious? Now we can get married right off, can't