With best wishes, Yours truly, ANNETTE GORDON.
Blake put the letter down and walked about his office for a while in thought.

"Invited to the old station ?" he mused.

"I must go, of course, Too good a chance to miss." "Might have written herself!" he muttered, as he turned the letter over to see if by chance Miss Grant had written a line anywhere; then, laying it on one side, he took up carelessly a square business-like envelope, addressed to him in a scrawly, illiterate fist.

The letter that he took out of it was a strange jewel to repose in so rude a casket.

It also was from Kuryong--from Ellen Harriott, who had taken the precaution of addressing it in a feigned hand so that the postmaster and postmistress at Kiley's Crossing, who handled all station letters, would not know that she was corresponding with Blake.