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           Atthesoundofthefrontdoorknockersheturnedandwenttoanswerit,wonderingwhoonearthhadmanagedtogetthroughthemud,andasalwaysastonishedatthespeedwithwhichnewstraveledthelonelymilesbetweenthefar-flunghomesteads.

           FatherRalphwasstandingontheveranda,wetandmuddy,inridingclothesandoilskins.

           "MayIcomein,Mrs.Smith?"

           "Oh,Father,Father!"shecried,andthrewherselfintohisastoundedarms."Howdidyouknow?"

           "Mrs.Clearytelegrammedme,amanager-to-ownercourtesyIappreciatedverymuch.IgotleavetocomefromArchbishopdiContini-Verchese.Whatamouthful!WouldyoubelieveIhavetosayitahundredtimesaday?Iflewup.Theplaneboggedasitlandedandpitchedonitsnose,soIknewwhatthegroundwaslikebeforeIsomuchassteppedonit.Dear,beautifulGilly!IleftmysuitcasewithFatherWattyatthepresbyteryandcadgedahorsefromtheImperialpublican,whothoughtIwascrazyandbetmeabottleofJohnnieWalkerBlackLabelI’dnevergetthroughthemud.Oh,Mrs.Smith,don’tcryso!Mydear,theworldhasn’tcometoanendbecauseofafire,nomatterhowbigandnastyitwas!"hesaid,smilingandpattingherheavingshoulders."HereamIdoingmybesttomakelightofit,andyou’rejustnotdoingyourbesttorespond.Don’tcryso,please."

           "Thenyoudon’tknow,"shesobbed.

           "What?Knowwhat?Whatisit—what’shappened?"

           "Mr.ClearyandStuartaredead."

           Hisfacedrainedofcolor;hishandspushedthehousekeeperaway.