o looks after Jane and me. Won't you help
me, dear Miss Annabel? I am quite sure that this is the only thing
to do."

"You are a strange girl, Esther. One would think you would be crazy to
get away. Look at Angus! He's going. He has suddenly found out that a
trip to the Holy Land is necessary if one is to speak intelligently upon
many portions of the Bible. Absurd! But I never let him dream that I
know that isn't his reason. And I hope you won't. It is all over now and
the sooner he forgets the better. But I think even you are convinced,
now, that I was right about--you know to what I refer!"

Esther murmured something indistinguishable and Miss Annabel departed
much pleased with her own perspicacity. And she did help. She let it be
known at the Ladies' Aid that she quite understood Esther and approved
of her. After all, it was senseless to run away from trouble since
trouble can run so much faster. And it was natural and right of Esther
to feel that nowhere could she find so much sympathy and consideration
as in her own town. Travelling was fatiguing anyway.

As for the school, that was easily arranged. A little discreet wire
pulling and Esther was once more established as school mistress of
District Number Fifteen. People shook their heads, but by the time of
the first snowstorm they had ceased to prophesy nervous prostration, and
by the time sleighing was fairly established they were ready to admit
that the girl had acted sensibly after all.

No one guessed that there was another reason for Esther's refusal to go
away. It was a simple reason and had to do with the fact that in Coombe
the mails were sure and regular. Travellers miss letters and strange
addresses are uncertain at best, but in Coombe there was small chance of
any untoward accident befalling a certain weekly letter in the
handwriting of Professor Willits. Esther lived upon these letters. Brief
and dry though they were, they formed the motive power of her life and
indeed it was from one of them that she had received the impetus which
roused her from her first trance of grief and horror.

"My dear young lady (Willits had written).

"I believe that there are times when the truth is a good thing. It might
be tactful to pretend that I do not know the real reason of Calendar's
collapse but it would also be foolish. I think he is going to pull
through. Now the question is--how about you? Are you going to be able to
do your part?

"Let me be more explici