She handed Nancy Ellen the letter and slowly ripped open the flap
of the heavy white envelope. She drew forth the sheet and sat an
instant with it in her fingers, watching the expression of Nancy
Ellen's face, while she read the most restrained yet impassioned
plea that a man of George Holt's nature and opportunities could
devise to make to a woman after having spent several months in the
construction of it. It was a masterly letter, perfectly composed,
spelled, and written; for among his other fields of endeavour,
George Holt had taught several terms of country school, and taught
them with much success; so that he might have become a fine
instructor, had it been in his blood to stick to anything long
enough to make it succeed. After a page as she turned the second
sheet Nancy Ellen glanced at Kate, and saw that she had not opened
the creased page in her hands. She flamed with sudden irritation.
"You do beat the band!" she cried. "You've watched for two days
and been provoked because that letter didn't come. Now you've got
it, there you sit like a mummy and let your mind be so filled with
this idiotic drivel that you're not ever reading John Jardine's
letter that is to tell you what both of us are crazy to know."
"If you were in any mood to be fair and honest, you'd admit that
you never read a finer letter than THAT," said Kate. "As for
THIS, I never was so AFRAID in all my life. Look at that!"
She threw the envelope in Nancy Ellen's lap.
"That is the very first line of John Jardine's writing I have ever
seen," she said. "Do you see anything about it to ENCOURAGE me to
go farther?"
"You Goose!" cried the exasperated Nancy Ellen. "I suppose he
transacts so much business he scarcely ever puts pen to paper.
What's the difference how he writes? Look at what he is and what
he does! Go on and read his letter."
Kate arose and walked to the window, turning her back to Nancy
Ellen, who sat staring at her, while she read John Jardine's
letter. Once Nancy Ellen saw Kate throw up her head and twist her
neck as if she were choking; then she heard a great gulping sob
down in her throat; finally Kate turned and stared at her with
dazed, incredulous eyes. Slowly she dropped the letter,
deliberately set her foot on it, and leaving the room, climbed the
stairs. Nancy Ellen threw George Holt's letter aside and snatched
up John Jardine's. She read: MY DEREST KATE: I am a day late with this becos as I told you I
have no schooling and in writing a letter is where I prove it, so
I never write them, but it was not fare to you for you not to know
what kind of a letter I would write if I did write one, so here it
is very bad no dout but the best I can possably do which has got
nothing at all to do with my pashion for you and the aughful time
I will have till I here from you. If you can stand for this
telagraf me and I will come first train and we will forget this
and I will never write another letter. With derest love from
Mother, and from me all the love of my hart. Forever yours only,
JOHN JARDINE.