ly vigorous almost at once. She
had out her writing desk, and wrote Jack a letter, as a consequence of
which everything published in New York was mailed to his aunt as soon as
it was off the presses. Lucinda was set reading aloud and, except when the
mail came, was hardly allowed to halt for food and sleep.

"My heavens above," said the slave to Joshua, "it don't seem like I can
live with her!"

"You'll live with her," said Joshua.

"It's more as flesh and blood can bear."

"Flesh and blood can bear a good deal more'n you think for," said Joshua,
and then he delivered up two letters and drove off toward the barn.

"If those are letters," said Aunt Mary from her pillow the instant she
heard the front door close, "I'd like 'em. I'm a great believer in readin'
my own mail, an' another time, Lucinda, I'll thank you to bring it as soon
as you get it an' not stand out on the porch hollyhockin' with Joshua for
half an hour while I wait."

Lucinda delivered up the letters without demanding what species of
conversational significance her mistress attached to the phrase,
"holly-hocking."

Aunt Mary turned the letters through eagerly.

"My lands alive!" she said suddenly, "if here isn't one from Mitchell,--the
dear boy. Well, I never did!--Lucinda, open the blinds to the other window,
too--so I--can--see to--" her voice died away,--she was too deep in the letter
to recollect what she was saying.

Mitchell wrote:

MY DEAR MISS WATKINS:--

We are sitting in a row with ashes on the heads of our cigarettes
mourning, mourning, mourning, because we have had the news that
you are ill. As usual it is up to me to express our feelings, so I
have decided to mail them and the others agree to pay for the ink.

I wish to remark at once that we did not sleep any last night.
Jack told us at dinner, and we spent the evening making a
melancholy tour of places where we had been with you. If you had
only been with us! The roof gardens are particularly desolate
without you. The whole of the city seems to realize it. The
watering carts weep from dawn to dark. All the lamp-posts are
wearing black. It is sad at one extreme and sadder at the other.

You must brace up. If you can't do that try a belt. Life is too
short to spend in bed. My motto has always been "Spend freely
everywhere else." At present I recommend anything calculated to
mend you. I may in all modesty mention