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 "What's his idea in tiring you all out with a long trip like that?"

"Well, I told you, he wants me to see the places, and to learn to take care of myself, and he wants to have me with him some, and—and—"

"And what?"

Bess hesitated, and picked a head of timothy to pieces. "Well, I'll tell you, Chet," she said, at last, and I saw the red come up into her face; "You know I learned to use the type-writer last winter, and when I went East, Father told me I could take it with me, if I would promise to write him long letters on it. He says it's a great thing to learn to think on a type-writer; because you can write so fast that you don't lose your best thoughts before you can get them down. And so I've been writing him long letters all Summer;—not so much about places and people and things, but about what places and people and things made me think,—and about what happened tome. And—" Bess picked harder at the timothy, "—and Father says they were very good letters indeed,"—I nodded. I knew what those type-written pages were like!—"and that—well, he said a good many things about them,—and