the habit in Texas and it seems to stay
with me. I'll get up and take it over early--very early, and give it to
the maid--or--I could send it by Denham, couldn't I? He's always up by
six o'clock."

"Of course--the very thing! You're sure you don't mind? You'll be
awfully sleepy in the morning."

"I'd love to do it," Carita answered, truthfully. To be of service to
Blue Bonnet constituted her greatest happiness. "Hurry up and write it!"

For the next ten minutes Blue Bonnet's pen scratched away busily. There
must have been some difficulty in writing the note, for several attempts
went the way of the waste basket. Finally it was done. Blue Bonnet read
it through three times, then slipped it into an envelope and laid it on
the table beside the bed.

"There it is," she said, eying it with misgivings. "I hope it's all
right, and I haven't been too awfully humble. I don't suppose he cares a
rap, anyway--as long as--"

She stopped abruptly. She was going to say "as long as Kitty Clark was
around," but she couldn't bring herself to it.

Carita was up with the larks the next morning and slipping down-stairs
quietly, so that she did not even waken Blue Bonnet, found Denham and
gave him the note.

"It's for Mr. Alec, Denham," she said, "and it's very, _very_ important.
Please take it over immediately and give it to the cook. Tell her to
give it to Mr. Alec the first thing when he comes down to breakfast.
And, Denham, please impress upon her how important it is. She might
mislay it or something."

Denham promised faithfully, and a few hours later at the station Blue
Bonnet was rewarded by a cordial handshake from Alec.

"I got the note all right, Blue Bonnet. It was good of you to send it
over--makes my going away a lot easier. Hope you have a jolly good
vacation. Put Judson through his paces, won't you? Good-by. Send along
some of those fine letters of yours and tell me all the news."

He was off, and Blue Bonnet watched the long train vanish into a black
speck.

"Come along, Solomon," she said with a faint sigh, after Alec's last
salute had been lost to view, "there's no use moping here."

She left the girls at the first corner and turned into a little lane
that led to the Widow Patten's cottage. The Widow Patten was a unique
figure in the village. Small of stature, cheery of countenance,
charitable by nature, she mothered the town. Fate had not been kind to
Mrs. Patten, but she cherished no resentment; it had lef