smiling cheerily as she could. Sim Gage looked carefully at
her face to see how much she knew.

"Doctor Barnes told me that that man, the one that took me away, was
hurt by a tree; that you got there too late to save him. But to think,
I'd have shot that man. I _did_ try to shoot him, Mr. Gage!"

"Why, _did_ you, ma'am?" said Sim Gage. "But then, it would of been a
miracle if you had a-hit him, your eyes being poor, like. I reckon
it's just as well you didn't."

"Won't you sit down?" She motioned her hand vaguely. "There's a box
right there."

"How do you know, ma'am?"

"Oh, I know where everything is now. I'm going to learn all about this
place. I can do all sorts of things after a while--cook and sweep and
wash dishes and feed the chickens, and--oh, a lot of things." It was
well enough that he did not see her face as she turned it away, anxious
to be brave, not succeeding.

"That there looks, now, like you'd moved in," said Sim Gage. "Looks
like you'd come to stay, as the feller says." He tried to laugh, but
did not make much of it; nor did she.

"Oh, I forgot," he resumed suddenly, bethinking himself of the errand
which had brought him hither. "I got a letter fer you, ma'am."

"A letter? Why, that's strange--I didn't know of any one----"

"Sure, it's fer you, ma'am. It's from Annie Squires."

"Annie! Oh! what does she say? Tell me!"

Sim had the letter opened now, his face puckered.

"Why, nothing very much, ma'am," said he. "I can't exactly see what it
says--light's rather poor in here just now. But Wid, he read it. And
she said it was all right with her, and that she was back in her little
room again. I reckon it's the room where you both used to live?"

"She isn't married! What did she say?"

"No'm, not married. That's all off. Her feller throwed her down. But
she says she wants you to write to her right away and tell
her--now--tell her about things--you know----"

"What does she say?--Tell me _exactly_ what she said."

"One thing-"--he plunged desperately--"she said she was sure you was
happily married. And she wanted you to tell her all about your
husband. But then, good God A'mighty! she didn't know!"

"Well," said Mary Warren, her blood high in her face, "I'll have to
tell her all about that, won't I? I'll write to her at once."

"You'll write to her? What?"

--"And tell her how happy I am, how fortunate I've been. I'll tell her
how you took me in even thou