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THE COMING OF THE BLUEBIRD.
The Harvester stopped at the mail box on his way home and among the mass of matter it contained was something from the Girl.

It was a scrap as long as his least finger and three times as wide, and by the postmark it had lain four days in the box.

On opening it, he found only her card with a line written across it, but the man went up the hill and into the cabin as if a cyclone were driving him, for he read, "Has your bluebird come ?" He threw his travelling bag on the floor, ran to the telephone, and called the station.

"Take this message," he said.