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TWO LETTERS Whew! whistled Joe Matson, the astonishment on his bronzed face being indicated by his surprised exclamation of: Well, what do you know about that, Sis? What is it, Joe? asked his sister Clara, as she looked up from a letter she was reading to see her brother staring at a sheet of paper he had just withdrawn from an envelope, for the morning mail had been delivered a few minutes before. What is it? the girl went on, laying aside her own correspondence. Is it anything serious – anything about father's business? Don't tell me there is more trouble, Joe! I'm not going to, Clara. It isn't trouble, but, if what he says is true, it's going to make a big difference to me, and Joe looked out of the window, across a snowy expanse of yard, and gazed at, without consciously seeing, a myriad of white flakes swirling down through the wintry air. No, it isn't exactly trouble, went on Joe, "and I suppose I ought to be corkingly glad of it; but I hadn't counted on leaving the Central Baseball League quite so soon

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