t's up?" she asked in her dull, even tones, while in her vacant
eyes the groping, tender look grew.

"Oh! Jan-an," Mary-Clare was off her guard, "the letters; my dear old
doctor's letters--they are gone; gone." Her feeling seemed out of all
proportion to the loss.

"Who took 'em?" And then Jan-an did one of those quick, intelligent
things that sometimes shamed sharper wits--she went to the hearth.
"There ain't been no fire," she muttered. "He ain't burned 'em. What
did he take them for?"

This question steadied Mary-Clare. "I'm not _sure_, Jan-an, that any
one has _taken_ the letters. You know how careless I am. I may have
put them somewhere else."

"If yer have there's no need fussing. I'll find 'em. I kin find
anything if yer give me time. I have ter get on the scent."

Mary-Clare gave a nervous laugh.

"Just old letters," she murmured, "but they meant, oh! they meant so
much. Come," she said suddenly, "come, I must dress and get
breakfast."

"I've et." Jan-an was gathering the bedclothes from the floor. She
selected the coverlid and brought it to Mary-Clare. "There, now," she
whispered, wrapping it about her, "you come along and get into bed
downstairs till I make breakfast. You need looking after more than
Noreen. God! what messes some folks can make by just living!"

Things were reduced to the commonplace in an hour.

The warmth of her bed, the sight of Noreen, the sound of Jan-an moving
about, all contributed to the state of mind that made her panic almost
laughable to Mary-Clare.

Things had happened too suddenly for her; events had become congested
in an environment that was antagonistic to change. A change had
undoubtedly come but it must be met bravely and faithfully.

The sun was flooding the big living-room when Mary-Clare, Noreen, and
Jan-an sat down to the meal Jan-an had prepared. There was a feeling
of safety prevailing at last. And then Jan-an, her elbows on the
table, her face resting in her cupped hands, remarked slowly as if
repeating a lesson:

"He's dead, Philander Sniff. Went terrible sudden after taking all
this time. I clean forgot--letters and doings. I can't think of more
than one thing at a time."

Mary-Clare set her cup down sharply while Noreen with one of those
whimsical turns of hers drawled in a sing-song:

"Old Philander Sniff, he died just like a whiff----"

"Noreen!" Mary-Clare stared at the child while Jan-an chuckled in a
rough, loose way as if her laugh were sma