t aroused Mrs. Thomas's curiosity, and after glancing
at it once or twice over the top of her own letters, she could not
forbear to ask:

"Ain't you going to read your letter, Sadie?"

"Mebbe. Sometime. By an' by. When I get good an' ready," returned the
gypsy indifferently and abstractedly, squinting with one eye down the
barrel of her gun. "What do I want with letters? I got two bear an' a
mountain lion before the snow flew."

Mrs. Thomas laid aside her letters for the moment, and, lifting a large
pot of coffee from the stove, poured out a cupful for her friend and
then one for herself. "Here, Sadie," she coaxed, "rest yourself with a
cup of coffee. I'll set down the sugar and cream an' whilst you're
drinking it, open your letter. Come now, do. Maybe it's from a
gentleman."

"It sure is," replied Mrs. Nitschkan, laying her gun carefully across
her knee, wiping her hands on the cloth with which she had been
polishing it, and then dropping several lumps of sugar into the cup, she
poured herself a liberal allowance of cream. "It's a bill for that
double-j'inted, patent, electrical fishin' rod that I sent East for,
clean to New York City, for a weddin' present for Celia."

Mrs. Thomas gave a faint, scornful laugh at the thought of this most
incongruous gift for Mrs. Nitschkan's pretty, feminine daughter. "A
fishin' rod for Celia!" she exclaimed, "when all she ever thinks about
is cookin' an' sweepin' an' sewin' all day."

"That's it," Mrs. Nitschkan radiated self-approbation and satisfaction.
"It made a nice show at the weddin', didn't it? And it has sure been
useful to me since."

But Mrs. Thomas had again absorbed herself in her correspondence, and it
is doubtful if she heard these last words. "Say, Sadie," she cried
presently, a ripple of joyous excitement in her voice, "listen here to
what Willie Barker says, 'If you don't come back soon, I'm a-going to
lay right down an' die, or maybe take my own life.'"

"Then you'll stay right on here," said Mrs. Nitschkan shortly but
emphatically. "Such a chanst as that's not to be missed."

Mrs. Thomas pouted, "But, honest, can't we pretty soon leave these old
prospects that you're a-nursin' along to salt an' get ready to palm off
on some poor Easterner?"

The gypsy took a long draught of coffee, wiping her mouth on the back
of her hand. "Your ungratefulness'll strike in and probably kill you,
Marthy Thomas. Here I burdened myself with you to save your life
insurance