e in that tone?" he
said. "Are you going to tell me? You have no reason but your own fancy."

"Haven't I? Well, this isn't fancy, Max--that I would like to see my
cousin--you see, I claim them for this once--happy in her own way, instead
of unhappy in the life her ambitious family are trying to arrange for her.
And I promise to trade some surplus dust for a wedding present just as
soon as you conclude to spoil their plans, and make yourself and that
little girl and your aunt all happy by a few easily spoken words."

"But I have just told you I love you."

"You will know better some day," she said, and turned away. "Now go and
pacify your aunt, won't you? She seemed so troubled about the
modeling--bless her dear heart! I didn't want to trouble her, but the
work--some work--was a necessity to me. I was growing so homesick for the
woods."

After she was left alone, she drew a letter from her pocket, one she had
got in the morning mail, and read over again the irregular lines sent by
Mrs. Huzzard.

"I got Lavina to write you the letter at Christmas, because I was so
tickled with all the things you sent me that I couldn't write a
straight line to save me; and you know the rheumatiz in my finger
makes it hard work for me sometimes. But maybe hard work and me is
about done with each other, 'Tana; though I'll tell you more of that
next time.

"I must tell you Mr. Harris has got better--can talk some and walk
around; can't move his left arm any yet. But Mr. Dan sent for two
fine doctors, and they tried to help him with electricity. And I was
scared for fear lightning might strike camp after that; but it
didn't. Lavina is here still, and likely to stay. She's a heap of
company; and she and Captain Leek are better friends than they was.

"There is a new man in camp now; he found a silver mine down near
Bonner's Ferry, and sold it out well. He was a farmer back in
Indiana, and has been on a visit to our camp twice. Mr. Dan says it's
my cooking fetches him. Everything is different here now. Mr. Dan got
sawed lumber, and put me up a nice little house; and up above the
bluff he has laid out a place where he is going to build a stone
house, just as if he intends to live and die here. He doesn't ever
seem to think that he has enough made now to rest all his days.
Sometimes I think he ain't well. Sometimes, 'Tana, I think it would
cheer him up if you would just write him a few lines fro