"I gave you a quarter."

"An' it turned out to be on'y a 'spender butt'n. Be reason'ble, Joe."

"Where is the letter?"

"'Tain't a letter no more. It's on'y ol' fambly papers by this time.
Three years is----"

"Where is it? By thunder, Peggy, if you don't answer me I'll put you in
jail for breach of trust!"

"Ye've changed, Joe," sadly. "Ye ain't no more like----"

"Where is it?"

"Behind the lookin'-glass in my sett'n-room."

"Go and get it immediately, sir!"

"Ef I hev to cross thet dusty road twic't more, I'll hev to paint all
over agin, an' thet's a fact."

"Ethel," said Joe, with the calmness of despair, "you'll have to
telephone over to the Junction and ask them to send a constable here
at once."

"Never mind," cried McNutt, jumping up hastily; "I'll go. Paint don't
cost much, nohow."

He stumped away, but on his return preferred to let Kate carry the
soiled, torn envelope up to the young folks. The letter had palpably
been tampered with. It had been opened and doubtless read, and the flap
clumsily glued down again.

But Ethel had it now, and even after three years her sweet eyes dimmed
as she read the tender words that Joe had written because he lacked the
courage to speak them. "My one great ambition is to win a home for us,
dear," he had declared, and with this before her eyes Ethel reproached
herself for ever doubting his love or loyalty.

When she rode her pony over to the Wegg farm next day Ethel's bright
face was wreathed with smiles. She told her girl friends that she and
Joe had had a "good talk" together, and understood each other better
than ever before. The nieces did not tell her of their newly conceived
hopes that the young couple would presently possess enough money to
render their future comfortable, because there were so many chances that
Bob West might win the little game being played. But at this moment
Ethel did not need worldly wealth to make her heart light and happy, for
she had regained her childhood's friend, and his injuries only rendered
the boy the more interesting and companionable.

Meantime Uncle John had been busily thinking. It annoyed him to be so
composedly defied by a rascally country merchant, and he resolved, if he
must fight, to fight with all his might.

So he wired to his agent in New York the following words:

"What part of the Almaquo timber tract burned in forest fire three years
ago?"

The answer he received made him give a satisfied grunt.