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Shall we write letters of congratulation to him, Earwaker? 'A joint epistle, if you like. Mr. Morton, who had brightened since dinner, began to speak caustically of the form of intellect necessary nowadays in a popular clergyman. 'He must write a good deal, put in Earwaker, 'and that in a style which would have scandalised the orthodox of the last century.

"Only twenty-nine days more!" Mrs. Morton shuddered. She glanced about the room. How had the letter come there? Certainly not by means of the door. Yet it seemed equally out of the question that it could have been brought in through one of the windows.

Drivers whipped up their horses, and pedestrians hastened their steps. Steve Webster decided not to run even the smallest risk of injuring so precious a commodity as Doxy Morton by a shower of rain, so he drove into a friend's yard, put up his horse, and waited till the storm should pass by.

Morton retired to a few hours' rest; but his imagination, disturbed by the events of the day, did not permit him to enjoy sound repose. There was a blended vision of horror before him, in which his new friend seemed to be a principal actor.

Morton how to operate the wireless. But the news that the ranger's wife was also to become a radio operator pleased him more and more as he turned the matter over in his mind. The pup, rubbing against his heels, recalled another matter to his mind. He had to train the dog to be useful to him. "No time like the present," muttered Charley to himself. And the training of the pup began then and there.

Galbraith's face clouded. "Mother is not well to-day," she answered. "Careful as we are of her she has in some way taken cold. She is not really ill, but we thought it wise for her to keep her room. She is heartbroken not to be downstairs and I promised that after she had had her luncheon and nap you would go up and see her." "Surely!" Robert Morton cried emphatically.

He thought that it must be Reginald Morton, having not heard that the Squire had returned to the country. But John Morton was shown into the office, and the old attorney immediately arose from his arm-chair. Sundown was there, and was at once sent out of the room. Sundown on such occasions was accustomed to retire to some settlement seldom visited by the public which was called the back office.

"I am not a newspaper writer, Mr. Baker," Duvall said, as soon as they were seated. "As a matter of fact, I am a detective, in the employ of Mrs. Morton, Ruth Morton's mother." "A detective?" he questioned. "Why has Miss Morton's mother employed a detective?" "Because someone is persecuting the girl, by sending her threatening letters, saying that her beauty is to be destroyed.

I shan't feel safe until she is home again." The maid's face lit up with a significant smile. From her manner it was clear that she fairly worshiped her young mistress. "I'll not let anyone do her any harm, Mrs. Morton," she said, earnestly. "You may be sure of that." "And don't let her know," Mrs. Morton added hastily, in a low voice, as she saw Ruth come to the door, "that I am at all worried.

I have heard tales of the girl, too, which made me glad, for thy sake, that it is all off, though I might not tell thee of them before. 'Tis very dark, Morton. I have had a pleasant sleep. Ods fish, I do not think a bad man would have slept so well. The fire burns dim, Morton: it is very cold. Cover me up; double the counterpane over the legs, Morton.