"And then again you mayn't." "What if he comes home?
What if he writes?
It seems that I just should be here." "If he writes, I'll send the letter.

And if he comes, Hughie can ride down and telegraph you word." "It's snowing," exclaimed Joan at the kitchen window.

"Harder and harder.

Oh, Hannah, if it keeps up we shan't be able to go to Briston to-morrow for my suit." "We'll go in the sleigh.

Hughie spoke of it at breakfast." "A brown suit," mused Joan with shining eyes.