child. Women and children weep, not men. The heart strings draw
tight and tighter until they tear or snap. The body is racked with
the anguish of the mind. The form reels and sinks to the floor. The
head bows low. Pent up tears fall like rain.--No, that cannot be.
Men do not shed tears. If they are mental cowards and physical
brutes they pass from hence by a short and easy route and leave the
burdens of life to their wives and mothers and disgraced families.
If they are Christian men they seek the only source of help.

Mrs. Johnston watched and waited--it seemed an hour, but was only a
quarter of that time till the granary door opened and she saw Percy
pass to the barn with a step which satisfied her mother's eye.

She drew out the letter, and from a life habit of making sure,
pressed the envelope to see that it contained nothing more. She
noted a slip of crumpled paper and drew it out. Upon it was written
in a penciled scrawl:

_"Her grandma has not consented."_

She read the letter, stood for a moment as in meditation, then
replaced the slip and letter in the envelope, and laid it on Percy's
desk. The letter was plainly a man's handwriting. The envelope was
addressed in a bold hand that was clearly not Mr. West's writing.