Philip felt as if he had been slapped in the face, to have had his hopes shattered so quickly and cruelly. All week he could hear Laura Mae saying that she was secretly married to Gene Whitmer before he went into the army. He had always held her above telling a lie, still, he could not make himself believe that what she had told him was true. Saturday, as he sorted the mail, he could see her beautiful face before him, he found that he was madly jealous of Gene. He put letter after letter in their respective pigeon holes until he came to one addressed to Miss Laura Mae Porter, in masculine writing. He laid it aside and finished the sorting. There was no one in the office but himself. He snatched up the letter to Laura Mae and tore it open. He wanted proof that what she had said was an untruth, and he felt sure that this letter would give it. Fate had hurt him so sorely that it seemed no more than fair to him that someone else should suffer, too. What could the anxiety of waiting for a letter be compared to what he was forced to bear? At first, his hands trembled but they became steadier as he read,

"My darling wife,

I received your letter and how happy I was to get it and see it signed, 'Your Bride'! Sweet girl, I love you so much! I too shall never forget our day in Kingsford before you went to Denver. I would like a meal like the one he was that day; beans are getting tiresome her already.

"We were so excited that day that I do not think we looked ahead very far, (my keeping our license.) After I reached home and had time to think, I realized that you might need it to prove our marriage, so I sealed it in a large white envelope and put it in the long tin box in my top dresser drawer. Maria will help you find it when you want it. Why don't you let people know that we are married and spend part of your time with Uncle and Maria?

"Do you remember the white card on which you signed your name in the café that day? The day I enlisted, I stopped in at the bank and gave it to the cashier as your signature card so we have a joint account thereof about fifteen hundred dollars, the other fifteen on my inheritance I willed to you, in case anything should happen to me in France. Just sign your checks the same as you signed your name on the white card and use as much of the money as you please.

"The school friend of whom Uncle spoke is John Chatterton Jr. from Kingsford. I do not remember having mentioned him to you. He is surely a fine fellow; he is like a brother to me.

"At the rate we are being drilled, I think we will soon be sailing for France, I would much rather be sailing back to you, Sweetheart! Duty calls and I will have to close this time, but I will write again soon. With much love, Your husband."

Then what she said was true, and Gene had money. Phil did not destroy the letter as he had planned to do but put it in his inner coat pocket, he might want it someday if he found that Laura Mae needed money badly enough. For the present, he would play a little game and see if the pretty young bride could be true to her husband and still be able to conceal her secret from the public.

The next morning being Sunday, he mounted his horse for a ride, for riding was one of Philip's favorite pass-times. The sky was so clear, it looked like a huge inverted bowl lined with blue silk. No breeze stirred the leaves of the trees as Philip rode alone in the woods, with no particular destination. He just wanted to be out in the open where he could think clearly. Suddenly, the thought came to him that the next move in his little game would be to secure the marriage license and hold it for a while to see what would happen, when he wanted to give it to Laura Mae, all he would have to do was pretend that Gene had sent it to him to deliver to the girl so her father would not get ahold of it.

He turned his horse back through the cottonwood trees toward the Whitmer Mansion. It was very probable that Everett would be at Church. Maria might be at Church too. If she were, he could sneak in and secure the envelope, but if she were home, she would be easy. He tied his horse to the fence in front of the beautiful dwelling and went up to the walk to the front door. Maria answered his knock with a cheerful smile on her face.

"Good evening, Mrs. Beckman," he said, holding his hat in his hand, revealing his dark wavy hair, "Isn't this a perfect Sunday?"

"You bet it iss, it lukes too gude to last. Oi tink it will rain soon. Come in."

"Thank you, but I am in a hurry. I came in the interest of the Busy Men's Club. Gene was the secretary before he went into the army, you know. I got a letter from him yesterday—"

"You dit? How iss he, iss he vell?" Maria broke in excitedly, "We are luking for vord from him again, now."

"He wrote me that he is just fine, he said that he left the bylaws for the club—let's see," he pulled out the letter from his pocket and with unnecessary fumbling, he opened it and pretended to read, knowing that Maria would not be quick enough to notice the address, as she did not read or write English well. He looked and continued as he folded the letter and put it back into his pocket, "Oh, yes, he says they are in a large white envelope in a long tin box in his top dresser drawer. He said that you would find it for me."

"Shore, shore, I will. Von't you come in?" she asked again.

"No, thank you, I will wait here if you don't mind." Maria disappeared and soon came back to the door with a large white envelope that was tightly sealed. She beamed as she handed it to Philip, for she was happy to have been of service to Gene. How she missed him, as much, she thought, as if he had been her own son!

Philip thanked the woman very politely for the envelope and went down the walk and out the gate. He mounted his horse and rode away, laughing to himself at the clever way in which he put one over on old Maria Beckman.