n a piece of paper fer me, I'll write it out with ink. I've got
two sheets of paper jest like this, with nice blue lines onto it, that
I've been a-savin' fer a letter, and Miss Hathaway, she's got ink."

Ruth sat down to compose an answer which should cast a shadow over the
"Complete Letter Writer." Her pencil flew over the rough copy paper with
lightning speed, while Hepsey stood by in amazement.

"Listen," she said, at length, "how do you like this?"

"MR. JOSEPH PENDLETON--

"Respected Sir: Although your communication of recent date was a great
surprise to me, candour compels me to confess that it was not entirely
disagreeable. I have observed, though with true feminine delicacy, that
your affections were inclined to settle in my direction, and have not
repelled your advances.

"Still, I do not feel that as yet we are sufficiently acquainted to
render immediate matrimony either wise or desirable, and since the
suddenness of your proposal has in a measure taken my breath away, I
must beg that you will allow me a proper interval in which to consider
the matter, and, in the meantime, think of me simply as your dearest
friend.

"I may add, in conclusion, that your character and standing in the
community are entirely satisfactory to me. Thanking you for the honour
you have conferred upon me, believe me, Dear Sir,

"Your sincere friend,

"HEPSEY."

"My!" exclaimed Hepsey, with overmastering pride; "ain't that beautiful!
It's better than his'n, ain't it?"

"I wouldn't say that," Ruth replied, with proper modesty, "but I think
it will do."

"Yes'm. 'Twill so. Your writin' ain't nothin' like Joe's," she
continued, scanning it closely, "but it's real pretty." Then a bright
idea illuminated her countenance. "Miss Thorne, if you'll write it out
on the note paper with a pencil, I can go over it with the ink, and
afterward, when it's dry, I'll rub out the pencil. It'll be my writin'
then, but it'll look jest like yours."

"All right, Hepsey."

She found it difficult to follow the lines closely, but at length
achieved a respectable result. "I'll take good care of it," Hepsey said,
wrapping the precious missive in a newspaper, "and this afternoon, when
I get my work done up, I'll fix it. Joe'll be surprised, won't he?"

Late in the evening, when Hepsey came to Ruth, worn with the
unaccustomed labours of correspondence, and proudly displayed the
nondescript epistle, she was compelled to admit that unless Joe had
su