month, and so they jugged Harry, and he's there--in jail--and I
suppose you've seen him; he's a fine-looking chap, dark hair, well
built. He's a dandy ball player and skates bully; I wish you could see
him shoot. We're going out West together when he gets out o' jail. Well,
he saw you and he liked you, and he wrote you a letter and wanted me to
hand it to you when no one was looking. Here it is: hide it, quick."

She took the letter, mechanically moved to do so by his imperative voice
and action, and slipped it into her algebra. When she turned to speak
Jack was gone, and she walked on, flushed with excitement, her breath
shortened and quickened. She had a fair share of woman's love of romance
and of letters, and she hurried a little in order that she might the
sooner read the message of the dark-eyed, pale boy in the jail.

It was well she did not meet Mrs. Brown as she entered, for the limpid
gray of her eyes was clouded with emotion. She climbed the stairs to her
room and quickly opened the note. It began abruptly:

"DEAR FRIEND: It is mighty good of you to come and sing to us poor
cusses in jail. I hope you'll come every Sunday. I like you. You
are the best girl I ever saw. Don't go to my father's church, he
ain't good enough to preach to you. I like you and I don't want
you to think I'm a hard case. I used up Clint Slocum because I had
to. He had hectored me about enough. He said some mean things about
me and some one else, and I soaked him once with my fist. He struck
me with the whip and downed me, then a kind of a cloud came into my
mind and I guess I soaked him with my knife, too. Anyhow they
jugged me for it. I don't care, I'd do it again. I'd cut his head
off if he said anything about you. Well, now I'm in here and I'm
sorry because I don't want you to think I'm a tough. I've done a
whole lot of things I had not ought to have done, but I never meant
to do anyone any harm.

"Now, I'm going West when I get out. I'm going into the cattle
business on the great plains, and I'm going to be a rich man, and
then I'm going to come back. I hope you won't get married before
that time for I'll have something to say to you. If you run across
any pictures of the mountains or the plains I wisht you'd send them
on to me. Next to you I like the life in the plains better than
anything.

"I hope you'll come every Sunday till I get out. Y