eo'ge," replied Plato with a grin that distended that organ
unduly. That he did not keep it shut may be inferred from the fact
that within the next half hour he had eaten and drunk fifty cents'
worth of candy, ginger-pop, and other available delicacies that
appealed to the youthful palate. Having nothing more to spend, and the
high prices prevailing for some time after the war having left him
capable of locomotion, Plato was promptly on hand at the appointed time
and place.

Tryon placed a letter in Plato's hand, still sticky with molasses
candy,--he had inclosed it in a second cover by way of protection.
"Give that letter," he said, "to your teacher; don't say a word about
it to a living soul; bring me an answer, and give it into my own hand,
and you shall have another half dollar."

Tryon was quite aware that by a surreptitious correspondence he ran
some risk of compromising Rena. But he had felt, as soon as he had
indulged his first opportunity to talk of her, an irresistible impulse
to see her and speak to her again. He could scarcely call at her
boarding-place,--what possible proper excuse could a young white man
have for visiting a colored woman? At the schoolhouse she would be
surrounded by her pupils, and a private interview would be as
difficult, with more eyes to remark and more tongues to comment upon
it. He might address her by mail, but did not know how often she sent
to the nearest post-office. A letter mailed in the town must pass
through the hands of a postmaster notoriously inquisitive and
evil-minded, who was familiar with Tryon's handwriting and had ample
time to attend to other people's business. To meet the teacher alone
on the road seemed scarcely feasible, according to Plato's statement.
A messenger, then, was not only the least of several evils, but really
the only practicable way to communicate with Rena. He thought he could
trust Plato, though miserably aware that he could not trust himself
where this girl was concerned.

The letter handed by Tryon to Plato, and by the latter delivered with
due secrecy and precaution, ran as follows:--

DEAR MISS WARWICK,--You may think it strange that I should address you
after what has passed between us; but learning from my mother of your
presence in the neighborhood, I am constrained to believe that you do
not find my proximity embarrassing, and I cannot resist the wish to
meet you at least once more, and talk over the circumstances of our
for