wly toward him. When it was near enough for him to
recognize the old white horse, the driver pulled up suddenly, turned
the cart sharply about in the road, and rattled away in the direction
from which he had come. Could it be that he had seen the boy there in
the open gate, and therefore had decided not to come in? Oliver could
scarcely believe that this was the reason.

An hour later, when he had gone back to the house, he saw a ragged,
barefoot youth in faded overalls come shuffling up the drive. He
delivered to Oliver a letter addressed to Cousin Jasper and said it
was "from Mr. Crawford and he was to be sure to get an answer."

Oliver carried it away to the study and stood waiting, looking out
through the window, while Cousin Jasper should read it and write a
reply. The brightness of the holiday weather seemed to be growing dim
somehow; the sun was still shining but with a touch of greenish,
unreal light.

"I hope there isn't going to be a storm," he thought. His reflections
were interrupted by a sound in the room behind him; Cousin Jasper was
tearing the letter sharply to pieces.

"Anthony has sent what he calls an ultimatum," he said, trying to
smile and not succeeding. "Tell the boy there is no answer."

The messenger, on being so informed, seemed reluctant to believe it.

"He said I must have one, not to come back without it," he kept
insisting.

How Anthony Crawford had found any one to carry his letter on this day
when Medford Valley seemed quite emptied of inhabitants seemed rather
a mystery, yet he had not only found one but had impressed him
forcibly with the necessity of fulfilling his errand. It was only
after he had received a coin from Oliver's pocket and a large apple
from the fruit dish in the dining room, that the shabby youth finally
decided to go away.

"He said I wasn't to come back without an answer, so if I haven't one
I needn't go back at all." He seemed to find this solution of the
difficulty an excellent one and went striding away, whistling
cheerfully.

Whatever final threat Anthony Crawford's letter had contained, it
seemed to be unusually disturbing to Cousin Jasper. Having evidently
made up his mind to ignore it, he seemed, just as plainly, to be able
to think of nothing else. He seemed unwilling to be alone, and yet to
be very bad company, for he was restless, silent, and, when Oliver,
with an effort, tried to talk of cheerful things, was completely
inattentive. They went int