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ke dat comes every mornin', don't it? Used to all be postmahked Denver. Must 'a' moved." As she spoke, she tried to get a glimpse of the letter over Laura's shoulder, but as the actress turned, she quickly looked away, and added: "Where is dat place called Goldfield, Miss Laura?" "In Nevada." "In _Nevada_?" echoed the woman, laying comical stress on the pronunciation. "Yes--Nevada. What's strange about that?" Annie drew her jacket closer around her, as if she were chilly. Shaking her head, she said: "Must be mighty smaht to write yuh every day. De pos'man brings it 'leven o'clock mos' always, sometimes twelve, and again sometimes tehn. Today he was late. But it comes, every day, don't it?" "I know," said Laura, with a faint smile. She disliked the negress, but reasons of policy prompted her always to appear cordial. Annie began brushing the armchair vigorously, and, as she worked, tried once more to see the postmark on the letter. Finally she said: "Guess mus' be from yo' husban', ain't it?" Laura shook her head. "No, I haven't any." The negress whisked her feather duster triumphantly. "Dat's what Ah tole Mis' Farley when she was down talkin' about yo' dis mornin'. She said if he was yo' husban' he might do somethin' to help yo' out. Ah tole her Ah didn't think yo' had any husban'. Den she says yo' ought to have one, yo're so pretty." Laura laughed. "Don't be so foolish, Annie." Noticing that she had left the room door ajar, the negress went and banged it shut. Then, proceeding to hang a clean towel on the washstand, she continued gossiping: "Der ain't a decent door in dis old house. Mis' Farley said yo' might have mos' any man yo' wanted just for de askin', but Ah said yuh was too particular about the man yo'd want. Den she did a heap o' talkin'." "About what?" demanded Laura quickly. She was amused as well as annoyed at the woman's impudence, but it was just as well to know what was being said about her downstairs. Pretending, therefore, to be interested, and curbing her impatience, she placed the still unopened letter on the table, and, going to her trunk, took from it a thimble and thread. Closing down the lid again, she sat on the trunk and began to sew a rip in her skirt. Annie, meantime, had begun to fuss at making the bed. [Illustration: SHE BEGAN TO SEW A RIP IN HER SKIRT. _Page 162._] "Well, yo' know," went on the mai
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