Letter follows.
COUSIN GILMORE.
My knees shook under me, and my eyes couldn't take in the letters
well, but I asked Roxanne, who was standing waiting to hear what the
telegram could be about, just as a friend should feel over a telegram,
to run out to the shed and get our Idol quick, and I would tell them
all about it together. He came in looking perfectly beautiful with his
coat off and a big apron on him. His eyes were just as excited as mine
felt, now that the mist had cleared, and it seemed to me even in that
moment that no other thousand dollars in the world could have brought
so much suspense and excitement as this one had.
But I knew that I might have a battle to fight in which I must win,
and I steadied my nerves and made myself feel like Father looks when
he reads important letters and begins to dictate answers in telegrams.
"Mr. Douglass Byrd," I said, perfectly coolly over my own inward
volcano, "you remember you promised me that if I could use my own
brains on a plan to get the doctor here for Lovelace Peyton's eyes,
you would let me do it?"
"Yes, I said just about that," he answered me, and he looked in my
eyes in a depending way that was so like Lovelace Peyton used to do
that again the mist came over my eyes.
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