you wouldn't have no more to do with her anyway after
her being shut up there with him so long, an then she looked jest
like she was going to faint, an I bust out through the door an
ketched up the ink pot, it want heavy enough to kill him, an I
slung it at him, an the ink went square in his eyes, an we slipped
through the closet an got away quick fore anybody knew a thing.

"I brought all the letters along so here they be. I havn't read a
one, cause I thought mebbe you'd ruther not. She aint seen em
neither. She dont know I've got em. I hid em in my dress. She's
all wore out with cryin and hurryin, and being scared, so she's
upstairs now asleep, an she dont know I'm writing. I'm goin to
send this off fore she knows, fer I think she wouldn't tell you
fear of worryin you. I'll look after her es well's I can till you
get back, but I think that feller ought to be strung up. But
you'll know what to do, so no more at present from your obedient
servent,

"MIRANDA GRISCOM."

Having at last succeeded in sealing her packet to her satisfaction and the
diminishing of the stick of sealing wax she had found in the drawer,
Miranda slid out the front door, and by a detour went to David Spafford's
office.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Clark," she said to the clerk importantly. "Grandma
sends her respecks and wants to know ef you'd be so kind as to back this
letter fer her to Mr. David Spafford. She's writin' to him on business an'
she don't rightly know his street an' number in New York."

Mr. Clark willingly wrote the address, and Miranda took it to the post
office, and sped back to Marcia, happy in the accomplishment of her
purpose.

In the same mail bag that brought Miranda's package came a letter from
Aunt Clarinda. David's face lit up with a pleased smile. Her letters were
so infrequent that they were a rare pleasure. He put aside the thick
package written in his clerk's hand. It was doubtless some business papers
and could wait.

Aunt Clarinda wrote in a fine old script that in spite of her eighty years
was clear and legible. She told about the beauty of the weather, and how
Amelia and Hortense were almost done with the house cleaning, and how
Marcia had been going to their house every day putting it in order. Then
she added a paragraph which David, knowing the old lady well, understood
to be the _raison d'etre_