ds. We think September would be
a jolly month to be married in, but Betty refuses to set a day
until she finds out if she approves of my people! That's the way
_she_ puts it. She says she wants to find out if you believe in
women's voting, for if you don't, she knows she never could get on
with you. She believes that the thing that makes women opposed,
does other things to them--rather unpleasant, unfriendly things.

I told her your sentiments and then she asked about Con. She says
she wouldn't trust the freest woman in the East if she were married
to a slave-believing man.

By all this you will judge what a comical little cuss Betty is,
but all the same I am quite serious in urging you to come home
before I grow desperate.

BRACE.

Truedale looked at Lynda in blank amazement. "I'd forgotten about the
sister," he said, inanely.

"I think, dear, we'll _have_ to go home. I remember once when we were
quite little, Brace and I, mother had taken me for a visit and left him
at home. He sent a letter to mother--it was in printing--'You better
come back,' he said; 'You better come in three days or I'll do
something.' We got there on the fourth day and we found that he had
broken the rocking chair in which mother used to put him to sleep when
he was good!"

"The little rowdy!" Truedale laughed. "I hope he got a walloping."

"No. Mother cried a little, had the chair mended, and always said she
was sorry that she had not got home on the third day."

"I see. Well, Lyn, let's go home to him. I don't know what he might
break, but perhaps we couldn't mend it, so we'll take no chances."

Truedale and Lynda had walked rather giddily upon the heights; the
splendour of stars and the warm touch of the sun had been very near
them; but once they descended to the paths of plain duty they were not
surprised to find that they lay along a pleasant valley and were warmed
by the brightness of the hills.

"It's--home, now!" whispered Truedale as he let himself and Lynda in at
the front door, "I wish Uncle William were here to welcome us. How he
loved you, Lyn."

Like a flood of joy memory overcame Lynda. This was how William Truedale
had loved her--this luxury of home--and then she looked at Truedale and
almost told him of the money, the complete assurance of the old man's
love and trust. But of a sudden it became impossible, though why, Lynda
could not have said. She sh