The Washington herald. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1906-1939, 1915-11-26
THE LOST LETTER.
By LOUISE OLIVER.

Uncle Dick listened for a minute at
the foot OF the stairs. At last Jimmie
was asleep! Evidently the hot water
bottle and tootkache medicine had done
their work, for the means and groans
had stopped. JImmie's mother had slip
ped away a few minutes before, leaving
Uncle Dick in charge.
II wouldn't ask you to stay in the
house this beautiful day. Dick" she had
explained TO her brother as she hurried
~ pinned on her hat. but the church
box has got to be packed today. Be
sides, Jimmie's toothaches never last
long. He's about half seas over now and
win be sound asleep. But II he gets
up now 1t will be sure to start again.
so he must stay In bed. The chances
are he'll sleep until l come home. Good
BY. Dickie! You're a dear.
She gave him n hasty kiss and de-
parted. Poor Dick she reflected. He
hasn't been himself since Mary Hemp
stead went away in the fall Here Il
almost April and he hasn't had any word
from her yet can't understand II at
all. I always had an idea that she
promised to give Dick an answer In that
letter he's looked for so eagerly and
that has never come"
Left alone, Dick whistled softly tune
he and Mary used to dance to. Realizing
what II was he suddenly stopped, and
at that instant his eyes fell upon her
picture on the mantel. He went over
and picked II up.
How could a girl with such eyes as
that treat any one as she had treated
him? He put the picture back In Its
place and turned away. Love had gone
- 70 with If ambition and
hope.
The front door stood open and the
breeze came In soft and warm from the
south. The sun. too. was as bright and
the sky as blue as June.
Near the shed door stood an old fish,
ing rod. Dick walked over and picked
n up. The soft wind and blue sky and
ward the river.
Jimmie and his toothache were for
gotten while he made his way down the
muddy road with the fishing rod over
his shoulder and a bucket Of bait in his
hand.
As he turned of the road to go through
the broken place in the Hempstead's
fence, and thence through the hickory
grove toward the river. he heard horse
behind him. He turned and looked
straight into the startled blue eyes Of
Mary Hempstead But while he stood
paraIyzed, the look In the blue eyes
changed instantly to one OF contempt
as her horse gaIloped by.
Mary home! Could II really be the girl
who had teasingly promised him his an
swer In the first letter on her visit West
He turned blindly toward the river
and when he finally reached the place
threw himself down dejectedly on rock
and tried to think.
Moanurhi1a Jimmie had nica n
Portable nap, thanks to his mothers doc
toring and a quiet house. after which
he Weakened and hoped out of bed. YELL
ing for some one to come and put his
clothes on him
No one answered. Jimmie went down
stairs to investigate the silence. There
was no one there, but the front door
was open and the soft. warm wind that
blew in felt delicious. Jimmie went out
onto the porch.
What a bully wind for a kite. and here
he'd been shut up all day missing Il,
Suddenly he remembered he had no kite.
Yesterday II had hooked on top of the
red oak and stuck there. He had brok-
en- the strink trying to get II down.
The red oak was Just across the creek
at the foot OF the Nil Maybe the kite
had come down. He'd get his line and
go to see.
SuitIng the action to the idea. Jimmie
fshed the kite string out OF its hiding
place and started for the tree, the wind
blowing his night gown around bis bare
legs and feet The soft ground oozed up
through his toes and he squealed de-
lightedly. But the water In the creek
was cold-too cold TO wade through! Ooch,
He knew the very thing! Uncle Ned's
bootsI Mother had promised him a pair
Of his own, but until they materialized
tha others must do
Back to the house and into Uncle
Ned's room. He knew where the boots
were-in a corner OF the cupboard. He
carried them to the porch and tried to
put them on. But they were miles too
high and too heavy. He couldn't walk.
Jimmie sat down to cry. and gave them
an indignant kick. Out OF one boot shot
something that had been white. Now II
was dirty. wrinkled and twisted. Jimmie
grabbed It and tore away the outside.
well, VII use this old letter for a kite.
II can't get mine. Where's that string
I had?'
The creek and boots were forgotten.
Jimmie, still. in midnight attire. defed
the prophecies and the toothache, by
dancing gleefully all over the farm with
his homemade kite.
Down by che river Uncle Dick grieved
on in town Uncle Ned little guessed
that by accidentally dropping an I'M
portant letter into his boots four months
before he had all but ruined the happi-
ness Of two lives.
Over In the Hampstead yard Mary wa,
-