might possibly teach you that
you can't always judge a man by appearance, or hastily; though just why
George Holt looks more like a 'clod-hopper' than Adam, or Hiram, or
Andrew, it passes me to tell."

She handed Nancy Ellen the letter and slowly ripped open the flap of
the heavy white envelope. She drew forth the sheet and sat an instant
with it in her fingers, watching the expression of Nancy Ellen's face,
while she read the most restrained yet impassioned plea that a man of
George Holt's nature and opportunities could devise to make to a woman
after having spent several months in the construction of it. It was a
masterly letter, perfectly composed, spelled, and written; for among
his other fields of endeavour, George Holt had taught several terms of
country school, and taught them with much success; so that he might
have become a fine instructor, had it been in his blood to stick to
anything long enough to make it succeed. After a page as she turned
the second sheet Nancy Ellen glanced at Kate, and saw that she had not
opened the creased page in her hands. She flamed with sudden
irritation.

"You do beat the band!" she cried. "You've watched for two days and
been provoked because that letter didn't come. Now you've got it,
there you sit like a mummy and let your mind be so filled with this
idiotic drivel that you're not ever reading John Jardine's letter that
is to tell you what both of us are crazy to know."

"If you were in any mood to be fair and honest, you'd admit that you
never read a finer letter than THAT," said Kate. "As for THIS, I never
was so AFRAID in all my life. Look at that!"

She threw the envelope in Nancy Ellen's lap.

"That is the very first line of John Jardine's writing I have ever
seen," she said. "Do you see anything about it to ENCOURAGE me to go
farther?"

"You Goose!" cried the exasperated Nancy Ellen. "I suppose he
transacts so much business he scarcely ever puts pen to paper. What's
the difference how he writes? Look at what he is and what he does! Go
on and read his letter."

Kate arose and walked to the window, turning her back to Nancy Ellen,
who sat staring at her, while she read John Jardine's letter. Once
Nancy Ellen saw Kate throw up her head and twist her neck as if she
were choking; then she heard a great gulping sob down in her throat;
finally Kate turned and stared at her with dazed, incredulous eyes.
Slowly she dropped the letter, deliberately set her foo