ers to
correspond with the writer. One such request went from Sidney under
the pen-name of "Ellen Douglas." The girl was lonely in Plainfield;
she had no companions or associates such as she cared for; the Maple
Leaf Club represented all that her life held of outward interest, and
she longed for something more.

Only one answer came to "Ellen Douglas," and that was forwarded to her
by the long-suffering editor of "The Maple Leaf." It was from John
Lincoln of the Bar N Ranch, Alberta. He wrote that, although his age
debarred him from membership in the club (he was twenty, and the limit
was eighteen), he read the letters of the department with much
interest, and often had thought of answering some of the requests for
correspondents. He never had done so, but "Ellen Douglas's" letter was
so interesting that he had decided to write to her. Would she be kind
enough to correspond with him? Life on the Bar N, ten miles from the
outposts of civilization, was lonely. He was two years out from the
east, and had not yet forgotten to be homesick at times.

Sidney liked the letter and answered it. Since then they had written
to each other regularly. There was nothing sentimental, hinted at or
implied, in the correspondence. Whatever the faults of Sidney's
romantic visions were, they did not tend to precocious flirtation. The
Plainfield boys, attracted by her beauty and repelled by her
indifference and aloofness, could have told that. She never expected
to meet John Lincoln, nor did she wish to do so. In the correspondence
itself she found her pleasure.

John Lincoln wrote breezy accounts of ranch life and adventures on the
far western plains, so alien and remote from snug, humdrum Plainfield
life that Sidney always had the sensation of crossing a gulf when she
opened a letter from the Bar N. As for Sidney's own letter, this is
the way it read as she wrote it:

"The Evergreens," Plainfield.

Dear Mr. Lincoln:

The very best letter I can write in the half-hour before the
carriage will be at the door to take me to Mrs. Braddon's
dance shall be yours tonight. I am sitting here in the library
arrayed in my smartest, newest, whitest, silkiest gown, with a
string of pearls which Uncle James gave me today about my
throat--the dear, glistening, sheeny things! And I am looking
forward to the "dances and delight" of the evening with keen
anticipation.

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