ke this one
is. The folks here love to gossip about anything they can
pick up, and I'm going to tell you that when it got
circulated among some of your old work friends that I'd gone
to New York a few of them began to nose about and make
inquiries. They thought it was such a peculiar thing, you
see, for a man of my age and habits to do that they kept
talking and talking and joking and what not. Then, as might
have been expected, Todd Williams, who you remember thought
he saw you on the train in New York, put his finger into the
pie. He told it about that he was now more sure than ever
that it was you he saw on the train and that I had gone up
there to see you. That did the job, and I don't know what to
do about it. Folks meet me on the street and ask about you
as if it was a settled fact that you never died in that
wreck, and, with their eyes staring straight into mine, I
don't know what to do or say. John, I don't know how to lie
with a sober face. The more I shifted about and tried to get
out of it the more they believed it, till now, no matter
what I say, they only laugh and make fun and say that I'm
keeping something back. So please tell me what to do. The
truth is that the facts, if they get out, will never harm
you in any way. It is now so long since you left that only a
very few that used to know you are alive or here. The fever
for going West struck most of your old friends and they
moved away. I really think that I'd advise you not to keep
the truth back any longer. Questions are asked about what
came of Dora, and if I say that she is married and gone away
it will end all sorts of idle speculations.

If I've got you into a fix in this matter please forgive me,
for it all came about through no intention of mine. If I
could lie as straight as some contractors can beat down the
price of material or wages, I'd have got you out of this,
but I'm getting old and I'm like a baby in the hands of
these mouthing, tattling folks. Oh, how I wish you could
come down here! You'd not feel as bad about all that has
happened if you'd come down and visit me and my wife, and
throw it off like an old worn-out coat. What a joy it would
be to give you a room and see you seated at our humble
board! Think it over, my boy. Life is short at be