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 rest of the world as they were. The letters and duplicated telegrams were probably all safely lodged at this minute in the town they had expected to reach days earlier, whither they had ordered the mail to be sent from the Ossekosee. At first Mr. Marcy had hoped to go straight back to his hotel, taking the unnerved father. So he set that address. But Saxton languidly prolonged their journey southward, and his moodiness kept it variable and slow.

"I was tempted lots of times," said Mr. Marcy, "to telegraph to Knoxport and elsewhere, to alter the forwarding of our mail; but I was every day less certain of what route Saxton here would urge, and I knew business was done up for the season. So I said, 'Let it go as it is, for once.' I'll never be able again to think that such a shiftless thing will make no difference. Probably it wont again, though."

"And it was the newspaper, after all, that brought you the news?"

"The newspaper? I should say so. A peddler came up to the Fork with a fresh Boston paper in his pocket and I bought it.