on's history, that the students loved
him; and it was for this that they gave him at every opportunity their
lustiest cheer.

The professor found the stranger Sylvia had announced waiting for him at
the cottage. The young man did not mention his own name but drew from
his pocket a sealed letter.

"Is this Professor Andrew Kelton? I am to give you this letter and wait
for an answer."

Professor Kelton sat down at his desk and slit the envelope. The letter
covered only one page and he read slowly to the end. He then re-read the
whole carefully, and placed the sheet on his desk and laid a weight upon
it before he faced the messenger. He passed his hand across his
forehead, stroked his beard, and said, speaking slowly,--

"You were to bring this letter and bear back an answer to the writer,
but you were instructed not to discuss it in any way or disclose the
name or the residence of the person who sent you. So much I learn from
the letter itself."

"Yes, sir. I know nothing of the contents of the letter. I was told to
deliver it and to carry back the answer."

"Very good, sir. You have fulfilled your mission. Please note carefully
what I say. The reply is _No_. There must be no mistake about that,--do
you understand?"

"I am to report that you answered 'No'."

"That is correct, sir," replied Professor Kelton quietly. The young man
rose, and the Professor followed him to the door.

"I thank you for your trouble; it has been a warm day, the warmest of
the season. Good-afternoon, sir."

He watched the young fellow's prompt exit through the gate in the hedge
to the Lane and then returned to the library, where he re-read the
letter. Now that he was alone he relaxed somewhat; his manner expressed
mingled trepidation and curiosity. The letter was type-written and was
neither dated nor signed. He carried it to the window and held it
against the sunlight, but there was not even a watermark by which it
might be traced. Nor was there anything in the few straightforward
sentences that proved suggestive. The letter ran:--

Your granddaughter has reached an age at which her maintenance and
education require serious consideration. A friend who cannot be
known in the matter wishes to provide a sum of money to be held
and expended by you for her benefit. No obligations of any sort
will be incurred by you in accepting this offer. It is hardly
conceivable that you will decline it, though it is quite