He had found himself in his work, and in the glorious consciousness of the fact he felt like shouting with sheer joy of living.
"And Auntie Sue, dear Auntie Sue," he thought, looking with love in his eyes toward the house, how wonderful she had been in her helpful understanding and never-failing faith in him.

After all, it was Auntie Sue's triumph more than it was his.
His happy musing was interrupted by a neighbor who, on his way home from Thompsonville, stopped at the garden fence with the letter for Auntie Sue.
Brian took the letter with a jest which brought a roar of laughter from the mountaineer, and, when the latter had gone on his way up the hill, started toward the house to find Auntie Sue.
Glancing at the envelope in his hand, Brian noticed the postmark "Buenos Aires." He stopped suddenly, staring dumbly at the words in the circular mark and at the name written on the envelope.

Over and over, he read "Buenos Aires,--Miss Susan Wakefield; Buenos Aires,--Miss Susan Wakefield." Something--His brain seemed to be numb.

His hands trembled.
He looked about at the familiar surroundings, and everything seemed suddenly strange and unreal to him.

He looked again at the letter in his hand, turning it curiously.