the girl, who
lived at the Scovill home during vacations as well as throughout the
school year.

"Some day it will all be explained to you," Miss Scovill had said, "but
for the present you are simply to learn all you can and continue to be
just as nice as you have been. And meantime rest assured that somebody
is vitally interested in your welfare and happiness."

The illuminating letter came a few days after graduation. The girls had
all gone home and school was closed. Helen was alone in the Scovill
home. Miss Scovill had gone away for a few days, on business.

The letter bore a postmark with a strange, Indian-sounding name: "White
Lodge." It was in a man's handwriting--evidently a man who had written
much. The signature, which was first to be glanced at by the girl, read:
"From your affectionate stepfather, Willis Morgan." The letter was as
follows:

No doubt you will be surprised at getting this letter from one
whose existence you have not suspected. I had thought to let you
remain in darkness concerning me. For years I have been pleased to
pay your expenses in school--glad in the thought that you were
getting the best care and education that could be purchased. But my
affairs have taken a bad turn. I am, to put it vulgarly, cramped
financially. Moreover, the loneliness in my heart has become fairly
overmastering. I can steel myself against it no longer. I want you
with me in my declining years. I cannot leave here. I have become
greatly attached to this part of the country, and have no doubt
that you will be, also. Sylvan scenes, with a dash of human
savagery in the foreground, form the best relief for a too-extended
assimilation of books. It has been like balm to me, and will prove
so to you.

Briefly, I want you to come, and at once. A check to cover expenses
is enclosed. Your school years are ended, and a life of quiet, amid
scenes of aboriginal romance, awaits you here. Selfishly, perhaps,
I appeal to your gratitude, if the prospect I have held out does
not prove enticing of itself. If what I have done for you in all
these years entitles me to any return, I ask you not to delay the
payment. By coming now, you can wipe the slate clean of any
indebtedness.

Then followed directions about reaching the ranch--the Greek Letter
Ranch, the writer called it--and a final appeal to her sense of
gratitude.