Dear Brick and Bill:
I put Bill in,because I am sure that by this time he has been told what was in my last letter,and I know he's true blue.I have been so excited since finding out that Red Kimball is determined on revenge,and that Mr.Gledware may be a witness for him,that I can't think about anything but the danger at the cove.I feel that I ought to be there,to lend a hand;what will you do without me,if that horrible highwayman comes slipping around Turtle Hill,or creeps down the north mountain in the dead of night?And I would be on my way there,now,if I didn't hope to find out more about their plans.
They have come back from the picnic,and I am on the watch,feeling sure Red Kimball will come again to have another talk with Mr.Gledware.But he hasn't come yet,and everything is quiet and peaceable,as if things were going along as things always do and always will--it makes me dreadfully nervous!So,as it seemed that nothing was going to happen,I decided to stir up something myself.When there's no news,why not make some of your own?I made some.
This is the same day I overheard that plot in the library,but it is night.When it was good and dark,Annabel came up to my room where I was watching the road from my window,and she sat down and began talking about the picnic and what a fine time she had had,with a good deal about going to Europe.She was all flushed and running over with talk,and after a while it came clear that she's just been engaged to Mr.Gledware.
It seemed to me it would be like fighting behind bushes to tell her what I thought of Mr Gledware,while under his roof and at his expense,so I opened up matters by talking about Wilfred Compton.I told her how faithful and true Wilfred has been to her all these years,carrying her letters next to his heart,and dreaming of her night and day,and how he came to see me,once,because it had been two years since he'd seen a sure-enough girl,and how I tried to interest him as hard as I could,but he never wanted to come back because his heart belonged to Annabel.
After a while she began to cry,but it wasn't over Wilfred,it was over Edgerton.When Wilfred went away to be a cowboy she lost interest and sympathy in him because she doesn't understand cowboys;they are not in her imagination.But his brother Edgerton has always been a city man in nice clothes with pleasing manners,and if he had money--But what's the use talking?Seems like that's the worst waste of time there can be,and the most aggravating,to say if so-and-so had money I Because if he hasn't got it,somebody else has,and if you think money's more than the man,there you are.And Mr.Gledware has it.He's not the man but he has the money.
Then I expressed myself.You know what I think.So does Annabel,now.That's how I made me some news,when there wasn't any.The news is,that Annabel will never forgive me,and as I'm here solely as her guest,my guesting-time will be brief--just long enough to find out what Mr.Gledware decides to do.I oughtn't to have told Annabel that she was mercenary,or that Mr.Gledware was as hard as a stone and as old as M--(I'm not sure how to spell him,but you remember:the oldest man).Yes,I know I oughtn't.If a woman can marry a man when she doesn't love him,it won't change her purpose to know what YOU think about it,because her own feelings are the biggest things that could stand in the way.
But I told her,anyway.Seemed like everything in me turned to words and poured out without my having to keep it going.I just stood there and watched myself say things.You see,Annabel is so dainty and pretty,and naturally so sweet--and Mr.Gledware--well,he ISN'T.The more I thought of that,and the better I remembered poor Wilfred pining away for her in the desert,and not coming back to see me because he couldn't get HER out of his brain,and how she changed from him to his brother,and from Mr.Edgerton to Mr.Gledware,I was ashamed of her,and sorry for her,and angry with her.
I wish I hadn't said anything.But I felt glorious at the time,just like a storm sweeping across the prairie,purifying the air and not caring whether the earth wants to be purified or not.I did wrong,because I came to the big world to study people of culture and refinement,not to quarrel with them.You must have money,you MUST have money,you MUST have money,if you're civilized.I don't care if I AM a little storm.Yes,of course,
I know a storm isn't a civilized thing.Well,I know what I'm going to do,--I'm going to come back and blow the rest of my life right there in the cove,with my Brick and my Bill.
So that's my news,that I'm dissatisfied with the big world.It isn't like I'd have made it,that's the truth!Now I'll lay this letter aside to cool (I mean IT,and ME,too)and I'll not send it until something about Red Kimball happens,so you'll be posted on what really matters.After all,people that marry for money aren't important,they don't belong to big affairs--but there's something worth discussing in a plot to commit murder.That MEANS something;as Brick would say,it's 'vital.'These people about me,kind,gentle,correct,--all their waking thoughts are devoted to little things--fashionable trifles that last no longer than the hour in which they're born--just time-killers.I enjoy these pleasing trifles,but my eyes are opened and I know they ARE trifles.These people's eyes are not opened.Why?Because they haven't lived in the West,neighboring with real things like alkali plains and sand-storms and granite mountains.
My!but it would open their eyes if one of their dearest friends was in danger of getting himself hanged!Something permanent in THAT!
LATER:This is midnight.I expect to leave as soon as I possibly can,but probably this letter will get away first,so here's something new to put your mind on;it's rather dreadful,when you give it a calm thought.But my thoughts are not calm.Far from it.Oh,how excited I was!But I guess THEY didn't know it.It all happened about an hour ago,and you can see that my hand is still a little shaky.
