right, but I think he should do
more than that. And have you been troubled in the other affair, that of
your neighbor? You have not mentioned it--but have you?

Thankful had not been troubled in the "other affair." That is to say,
she had not been troubled by E. Holliday Kendrick or his attorney.
No move had been made, at least so far as anyone could learn, in the
project of forcing her to sell out, and Heman Daniels declared that
none would be made. "It is one thing to boast," said Mr. Daniels, "and
another to make good. My--ahem--er--professional rival is beginning
to realize, I think, that he has in this case bitten off more than he
can--er--so to speak, chew. That young man has succeeded in ruining
himself in this community and that is all he has succeeded in."

John said nothing. At his new boarding-place, Darius Holt's, he answered
no questions concerning his plans, and was silent and non-communicative.
He kept to himself and made no effort to regain his lost popularity or
to excuse his action. Thankful saw him but seldom and even Captain Obed
no longer mentioned John's name unless it was mentioned to him. Then he
discussed the subject with a scornful sniff and the stubborn declaration
that there was a mistake somewhere which would some day be explained.
But his confidence was shaken, that was plain, and his optimism assumed.
He and Mrs. Barnes avoided discussion of John Kendrick and his affairs.

Thankful read and reread the letter from Emily Howes. The news it
contained was so good that she forgot entirely the fact that there was
another envelope in the mail. Only when, as she sprang to her feet to
rush out into the yard and tell Georgie that his plea for an extension
of his visit was granted, was her attention called to this second
letter. It fell from her lap to the floor and she stooped and picked it
up.

The first thing she noticed was that the envelope was in a remarkably
crumpled and dirty condition. It looked as if it had been carried in a
pocket--and a not too clean pocket--for many days. Then she noticed the
postmark--"Omaha." The address was the last item to claim her attention
and, as she stared at the crumpled and crooked hand-writing, she gasped
and turned pale.

Slowly she sank back into her chair and tore open the envelope. The
inclosure was a dingy sheet of cheap notepaper covered with a penciled
scrawl. With trembling fingers she unfolded the paper and read what was
written there. Then s