simple statement of the whole thing and
sealed it up with John's address upon the envelope, and then raising her
hand solemnly promised herself that this letter which contained the truth,
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth should be mailed as she had
written it without being opened to change a word. She would answer John's
letter in one apart from this and send it by the same mail, but this
letter she would send as it stood.

As she got up to go to bed, she picked up the bag in which they brought
the mail and felt in it to see if anything were left. A small narrow book
that opened endwise and had the name of the Bank of Colebyville on it was
all. It was a fitting end to her considerations. She had never owned a
checkbook till recent years. Because of its presence, she might yet be
able to answer John Hunter as he wished. She thought long on her
situation. There was no sleep in her. The larger, the universal, aspects
of the question began to crowd in upon her mind.

"There is no other way," she said. "A woman, to be free, must have money
of her own. She must not be supported by a man."

She stepped out on the porch and stood looking toward the east. The
refreshing breeze which had sprung up cooled and invigorated her.

"The wind before the dawn! The beginning of a new day!" she said aloud.

Turning toward the kitchen, she began to pack a box which stood waiting on
the end of the kitchen table. Doughnuts, cookies and pies had been left
there to cool the evening before. Mrs. Farnshaw was to have threshers to
cook for to-day, and Elizabeth had grown thoughtful of the mother, who was
aging visibly. In such ways as she could, she spared her mother's strength
and gave her the comfort of frequent visits and companionship. In order to
get the long eight-mile drive over before it became hot, it was necessary
to get an early start, and Elizabeth, with Jack at her side, was on the
road before the sun was fairly above the horizon.

About eight o'clock Mrs. Farnshaw turned at the sound of their feet on her
doorstep. She set her cob basket on the floor, put the stove lid over the
roaring fire, and turned to Jack with grandmotherly delight.

"You're a real comfort, Lizzie," she said, straightening up with Jack in
her arms. "I never used t' think you would be, but you are. I'm that tired
that I'm ready t' drop."

"Anything more than usual?" Elizabeth asked, noting the fagged and heavy
face, and the gathering tears.

"Oh