by the wink. 

 “No, there isn’t no telegram in none o’ the letters,” said Joshua. 

 “Joshua Whittlesey, I do believe you was born to drive saints mad. What is the matter?” 

 “Nothin’ ain’t the matter as I know of.” 

 “Then what in Kingdom Come did you wink for?” 

 “I winked,” said Joshua meaningly, “cause I expect it’ll be a good while before we’ll feel like winkin’ again.” 

 Lucinda gave him a look in which curiosity and aggravation fought catch-as-catch-can. Then she turned and went in with the letters. 

 Aunt Mary was sitting stonily staring at the rain. 

 “I thought you’d gone to take a drive with Joshua,” she said coldly. “Well, ’s long ’s you’re back I’ll be glad to have my mail. Most folks like to get their mail as soon as it comes an’ I—Mercy on us!” 

 It was the letter from the authorities enclosed in one from Mr. Stebbins. 

 Lucinda stood bolt upright before her mistress. 

 “What’s happened?” she yelled breathlessly, after a few seconds of the direst kind of silence had loaded the atmosphere while the letter was being carefully read. 

 Then: 

 “Happened!—” said Aunt Mary, transfixing the terrible typewritten communication with a yet more terrible look of determination. “Happened!—Well, jus’ what I expected ’s happened an’ jus’ what nobody expects ’ll happen now. Lucinda, you run like you was paid for it and tell Joshua not to unharness. Don’t stop to open your mouth. You’ll need your breath before you get to the barn. Scurry!” 

 Lucinda scurried. She splashed and spattered down through the lane that led to Joshua’s kingdom with a vigor that was commendable in one of her age. 

 “She says ‘don’t unharness,’” she panted, bouncing in through the doorway just as Joshua was slowly and carefully folding the lap-robe in the crease to which it had become habituated. 

 Joshua continued to fold. 

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