Agony gazed in fascinated silence as Jo opened the envelope with a nail
file in lieu of a paper cutter and spread out the pages. Little black
specks began to float before her eyes and she leaned against the bed to
steady herself for the blow which she felt in her prophetic soul was
coming. Jo, in her eagerness to read the letter, noticed nothing out of
the way in Agony's expression. Dropping down on the bed beside her she
began to read aloud:

"Dearest Jo:

"When I think of you and all the other dear people I
left behind me in camp it seems that I must fly right
back to Keewaydin. It still seems a dream, my coming
away so soon after arriving. I have done nothing but
rush around since, getting my things together. We are in
San Francisco now, and sail tonight." ...

So the letter ran for several pages--descriptions of things she had seen
on the trip west, and loving messages for her friends at Camp, and
closing with a hasty "Goodbye, Jo dear." Not a word about the robin. The
choking sensation in Agony's throat left her. Weak-kneed, she sank down
on the bed and lay back on the pillow, closing her eyes wearily.
Unnoticing, Jo departed to show the letter to the girls to whom Mary had
sent messages.

Agony lay very still, thinking. Even if Mary had not mentioned the robin
incident in this letter, she might in a later one; the danger was never
really over. And on the other hand, Jo Severance, dear Jo, who had
become so fond of Agony in the last few weeks, would certainly tell Mary
about the robin when she answered her letter. Jo had already written it