her satchel. "I
had a long letter from Page this morning, from New York. Do you want to
hear what she has to say? I've only had time to read part of it myself.
It's the first one I've had from her since their marriage."

He lit a cigar.

"Go ahead," he said, settling himself on the box. "What does Mrs. Court
have to say?"

"'My dearest sister,'" began Laura. "'Here we are, Landry and I, in New
York at last. Very tired and mussed after the ride on the cars, but in
a darling little hotel where the proprietor is head cook and everybody
speaks French. I know my accent is improving, and Landry has learned
any quantity of phrases already. We are reading George Sand out loud,
and are making up the longest vocabulary. To-night we are going to a
concert, and I've found out that there's a really fine course of
lectures to be given soon on "Literary Tendencies," or something like
that. Quel chance. Landry is intensely interested. You've no idea what
a deep mind he has, Laura--a real thinker.

"'But here's really a big piece of news. We may not have to give up our
old home where we lived when we first came to Chicago. Aunt Wess' wrote
the other day to say that, if you were willing, she would rent it, and
then sublet all the lower floor to Landry and me, so we could have a
real house over our heads and not the under side of the floor of the
flat overhead. And she is such an old dear, I know we could all get
along beautifully. Write me about this as soon as you can. I know
you'll be willing, and Aunt Wess, said she'd agree to whatever rent you
suggested.

"'We went to call on Mrs. Cressler day before yesterday. She's been
here nearly a fortnight by now, and is living with a maiden sister of
hers in a very beautiful house fronting Central Park (not so beautiful
as our palace on North Avenue. Never, never will I forget that house).
She will probably stay here now always. She says the very sight of the
old neighbourhoods in Chicago would be more than she could bear. Poor
Mrs. Cressler! How fortunate for her that her sister'--and so on, and
so on," broke in Laura, hastily.

"Read it, read it," said Jadwin, turning sharply away. "Don't skip a
line. I want to hear every word."

"That's all there is to it," Laura returned. "'We'll be back,'" she
went on, turning a page of the letter, "'in about three weeks, and
Landry will take up his work in that railroad office. No more
speculating for him, he says. He talks of Mr. Jadwin contin