ore me. I never in my life have tried so hard before to hold my
soul absolutely still to see quite clearly, as though none of this
were happening to myself, what would be best for my boy's future,
for Peggy's, for their whole lives. It was in the midst of these
close-pressing thoughts that I heard him saying: "So that perhaps this
would truly be the right way for every one." Only too inevitably I
knew his words were true; and now I could force myself at last to say,
quietly: "Why--yes--if that would make you happier, Charles." He rose
and came up to my chair then so beautifully, and moved it to a shadier
place, as Peggy, catching sight of him from the garden, ran up with a
cry of surprise to meet him, to talk about it all.

I scarcely know whether her father's consciousness of the coming
separation for me, or my consciousness of the coming separation for him,
made things harder or easier for both of us. Cyrus was obliged to make a
business trip to Washington on the next day, and it was decided that as
Peggy especially wished to be with him now before her long absence, she
should accompany him in the morning.

On the midnight before we were all startled from sleep by the clang
of the door-bell. Good little Billy, always hoping for excitement, and
besides extremely sweet in doing errands, answered it. The rest of us
absurdly assembled in kimonos and bathrobes at the head of the stairs,
dreading we scarcely knew what, for the members of the family not in the
house. Within a few minutes Billy dashed up-stairs again, considerately
holding high, so that we all could see it, a special-delivery letter,
the very same illegible, bleared envelope which had before annoyed us so
extremely. It was addressed in washed-out characters to Miss -- Talbert.
The word Peggy, very clear and black, had been lately inserted in the
same handwriting; and below, the street and number had been recently
refreshed, apparently by the hand of Maria.

As this familiar, wearisome object reappeared before us all, Peggy, with
a little quiver of mirth, looking out between her long braids, cried:
"Call back the boy!" By the time the messenger had returned she had
readdressed the envelope, unopened, to Mr. Goward. Billy took it back
down-stairs again; and every one trooped off to bed, Alice and mother
with positive snorts and flounces of impatience.

Needless to say, Tom and Maria returned in perfect safety on Saturday.
Before then, at twelve o'clock on th