ut for information. She allus talked in a circle like
an Injun when she really needed news.

After a while she fished out a funny old letter. It wasn't put into an
envelope, it was just wrapped inside itself an' stuck fast with a gob
o' some kind o' wax which had been broke before it was opened. The' had
been a name on the outside, but it had been rubbed out. Inside at the
beginning was the name "Rose Cottage, San Francisco," and a date; but
I've forgotten the date. The letter began, "Dearest George." I read
that much an' then I looked at Barbie. "Where'd you get this?" sez I.

She reddened a little, an' then she looked me straight in the face, and
sez "I found it in the attic. I wanted a new box to put my cigarettes
in, an' one day Daddy left the attic door open an' I went in. The' was
just a dandy chest there an' he had left the key in it. I opened it an'
this letter was on top. He goes to the attic alone every now an'
again,--mostly at night,--an' he won't never let me go with him."

"I suppose that was the reason you thought he wanted you to go alone to
the attic, too," sez I. She flushed again. "If a person don't trust me
he ain't got no call to be surprised when I don't suit him."

I shook my head. Now in talkin' to her you forgot she was a child,
'cause she didn't talk broken like most of 'em do--nor she didn't think
broken neither; but when you looked at her, little and slim an' purty
as a picture, you couldn't help but wonder if she hadn't got her soul
changed off with some one else, like what they say the Chinese believe.
She had the same rules that I did for so many things that it floored me
to understand how she got 'em that young, me havin' had to figger 'em
out with a heap o' sweat.

"Was the letter to you?" I sez, gettin' around to facts.

"No, it wasn't; but I read it, an' I wisht I knew what it means."

"I ain't a-goin' to read it," sez I.

"You 're a coward," sez she.

"That's nothing," sez I; "if it wasn't for the cowards the' would be a
heap o' vacant land in this country," sez I.

"I thought you was my friend," sez she, takin' back the letter an'
holdin' it open in her hand. "If Spider Kelley could read he would read
it for me."

"So would Hawkins, your pinto," sez I, grinnin'. "What you ought to do
is to tell your Dad that you have the letter. If you don't tell him, I
reckon I'll have to."

At first she was mad as hops, an' then she looked into my eyes an'
laughed. "I'll dare you to,"