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