a'll likely want to always
stay here in Freedom," he had added with a squaring of the shoulders
that said plainly that the burdens of the household now rested upon him.

Nancy had gone away from the cottage that afternoon with a feeling in
her heart that Nonie and Davy would no longer need her. Davy, with his
first-hand war stories and trophies and a real hero for a father, from
now on had an assured standing among the youths of the village, and
Nonie had some one to love and to love her.

So the little loneliness that this thought created added to Nancy's
restlessness and made the hours seem endless. And it made her, too,
haunt the doorway watching for Jonathan and possible letters.

She told herself, sternly, that, of course, it was silly to expect
Peter Hyde to write--that was a closed chapter. But she had written a
long letter to Anne, telling her of the strange things that had
transpired at Happy House and of the two dear little sisters who were
undoubtedly Anne's relatives. Surely Anne must answer that letter.

Old Jonathan was too simple-hearted to wonder why Nancy ran out each
day to greet him or why she asked, each day, in a manner she tried to
make casual, if "Mr. Judson had anyone to help him yet?" But on this
fourth day, his smile was broad with satisfaction as he proudly placed
in her hand a big, flat envelope.

A week before Nancy would have exclaimed--for it was from Theodore
Hoffman. Now she turned away in disappointment.

In the excitement of the last few days she had forgotten her play. She
opened the envelope now with steady fingers. By some intuition she
knew just what she would find inside. There they were--all the sheets
over which she had toiled so long, familiar, yet unfamiliar, their
freshness gone from handling--tired-looking. Before she opened the
master's letter she gave them a tender little pat, as though she felt
very sorry for them.

The master's letter told her that her play had much merit and a great
deal of promise, but that it was "young." "You must know more of life,
my dear young lady, live close to love and close to sorrow and learn
life's lessons, before you can portray them.... And never lose faith
in your work. After failure, try again--and again--and again....
Work, work, work, greatness is in effort."

Nancy read the words with a thrill--it was as though he was speaking to
her.

Her labor of the last few months should not be in vain; her little
play, tho