ve any
other gift which would appeal to those two guests I hope you will turn
out. These are small beginnings of great thoughts, Sylvia, but they
point to that 'large place' where your consciousness belongs, and where
Love waits to lead you."

The pressure on the door of the girl's heart overwhelmed its
resistance. She leaned her forehead against the shoulder so near her.
Her breath caught in a sob. "I'll try," she breathed humbly, "I'll
try."

CHAPTER XI

THINKRIGHT'S LETTER

Back in the dingy offices of Calvin Trent the sunshine revealed
time-honored ink stains and other immovable relics which held their own
despite a thorough house-cleaning which Hannah had recently given the
rooms.

The judge had apologized to Dunham at the time.

"Until this affair of the Lacey girl is settled," he said, "Miss Martha
is liable to come in upon us at any time, and we might as well be
prepared."

"By all means," Dunham had responded devoutly. "Unless there is a
chemical change brought about in the anteroom I shall be obliged to ask
you to attend the door yourself."

This particular sunshiny morning, as John was opening the mail, he
found a letter beginning, "Dear Cal:"

It was postmarked Maine, and he passed it over to his employer in
silence. Judge Trent was reading the morning paper at the time, and
just glancing at his cousin's writing, he clutched the sheet in his
left hand and went on with his editorial.

Dunham smiled down at his pile of correspondence. "Absence hasn't made
the heart grow any fonder," he reflected. "The governor's interest in
Curly Head appears to be about where it was."

Then he thought of Miss Lacey and the contrasting eagerness with which
she would greet a letter from Maine. He breathed an involuntary sigh of
satisfaction that whatever the bulletin his own responsibility in the
matter was over, and that the lesson he had received concerning the
unwisdom of rushing in where relatives feared to tread was likely to
last during his lifetime.

"'M, h'm," breathed the judge at last, laying down the paper and
setting his hat a little farther back on his head. His thought was
evidently still busy with the morning news as his eyes moved vacantly
to the letter; but beginning to read, the corners of his lips drew
down, not in scorn, but with a movement habitual to him when
interested.

He read slowly; even read the letter twice. It ran as follows:--

* * *