.

"Your pa gets this book, and reads all this stuff that's been written
about 'Fanny,' and he don't see no reason why he shouldn't duplicate it
and maybe get it printed. I knew he set great store by books, but it
comes to me as a shock that he was allowin' to write 'em. Some of the
time he sees he's crazy himself. Didn't you see, there where he says, 'I
hope you do not blame me because I went mad'? 'Mad' is the refined word
for crazy.

"Then he goes on about eatin' husks and bein' starved. That's what I
told him when he insisted on havin' oatmeal cooked for his breakfast
every mornin'. I told him humans couldn't expect to live on horse-feed,
but, la sakes! He never paid no attention to me. I could set and talk by
the hour just as I'm talkin' to you and he wasn't listenin' any more'n
you be."

"I am listening, Mother," he assured her, in a forced voice. He could
not say with what joyful relief.

"Maybe," she went on, "I'd 'a' been more gentle with your pa if I'd
realised just what condition his mind was in. There's a book in the
attic full of just such writin' as this. I found it once when I was
cleaning, but I never paid no more attention to it. I surmised it was
somethin' he was copyin' out of another book that he'd borrowed from the
minister, but I see now. The Lord tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. If
I'd 'a' knowed what it was then, maybe I couldn't have bore it as I can
now."

Seizing his opportunity, Roger put the book and the letter aside. Miss
Mattie slipped out of its wrapper the paper which Roger had brought to
her from the post-office that same night, and began to read. Roger sat
back in his chair with his eyes closed, meditating upon the theory of
Chance, and wondering if, after all, there was a single controlling
purpose behind the extraordinary things that happened.

[Sidenote: Inner Turmoil]

Miss Mattie wiped her spectacles twice and changed her position three
times. Then she got another chair and moved the lamp closer. At last she
clucked sharply with her false teeth--always the outward evidence of
inner turmoil or displeasure.

"What's the matter, Mother?"

"I can't see with these glasses," she said, fretfully. "I can see a lot
better without 'em than I can with 'em."

"Have you wiped them?"

"Yes, I've wiped 'em till it's a wonder the polish ain't all wore off
the glass."

"Put them up close to your eyes instead of wearing them so far down on
your nose."

"I've tried that, but th