pmother to her, you mark my
words. You can let her come if you want to, Harvey, but you mustn't
expect me to treat her as anything but a--a--an orphan." She was a bit
mixed in her nouns.

A brilliant idea struck him.

"You'd better be nice to her, Mrs. Davis, if you know what's good for
you. Now, don't flare up! You mustn't forget you've broken the law by
opening a telegram not intended for you."

"What?"

"It isn't addressed to you," he said, examining the envelope. "Your
name is still Mrs. Davis, isn't it?"

"Of course it is."

"Well, then, what in thunder did you open a telegram addressed to my
wife for? That's my wife's name, not yours."

"But," she began, vastly perplexed, "but it was meant for me."

"How do you know?" he demanded.

Her eyes bulged. "You--you don't mean that there is another one,
Harvey?"

He winked with grave deliberateness. "That's for you to find out."

He darted through the back door into the alley, just as she collapsed
in the prescriptionist's arms. In the telegraph office he read and
re-read the message, his eyes aglow. It was from Nellie and came from
New York, dated Friday, the first.

"Am sending Phoebe to Blakeville next Monday to make her home with
you and Harvey. Letter to-day explains all. Have Harvey meet her
in Chicago Tuesday, four P.M., Lake Shore."

He scratched his chin reflectively.

"I guess it don't call for an answer, after all," he said as much to
himself as to the operator.

Nellie's letter came the next afternoon, addressed to Harvey. In a
state of great excitement he broke the seal and read the poignant
missive with eyes that were glazed with wonder and--something even
more potent.

She began by saying that she supposed he was happily married, and
wished him all the luck in the world. Then she came abruptly to the
point, as she always did:--"I am in such poor health that the doctors
say I shall have to go to Arizona at once. I am good for about six
months longer at the outside, they say. Not half that long if I stay
in this climate. Maybe I'll get well if I go out there. I'm not very
keen about dying. I hate dead things; don't you? Now about Phoebe.
She's been pining for you all these months. She doesn't like Mr.
Fairfax, and he's not very strong for her. To be perfectly honest, he
doesn't want her about. She's not his, and he hasn't much use for
anything or anybody that doesn't belong to him. I've got so that I
can't stand it, Harvey. The po