"Well you may be, my dear, in these times," she said, softening at once. "I shall write you, Delia, all about everything; you know you want to hear all about things." "Would I own to being a woman if I did n't?" She laughed her hearty laugh; then, with a little hesitancy: "And, my dear, I 'd think kindly of you for writing me, and I 'd like to know that all is going well with you, but you know there's Doctor Rugvie to reckon with, and he won't hold to much correspondence, I 'm thinking, between me and--what's the name of that place? I can't pronounce it--" "Richelieu-en-Bas." "Rich--I can't get the twist of it round my English tongue; say it again, and may be I 'll catch it." I repeated it twice for her, but her results were not equal to her efforts. We both laughed. "Never mind, Delia; and don't tell me Doctor Rugvie is going to say to whom I shall write or to whom I shan't--especially if it's my friend, Delia Beaseley." "Well, I can't say, my dear; but I 'll speak to him about it when he gets home--" "Now, no nonsense from a sensible woman, Delia Beaseley; I should think I was going into a land of mysteries to hear you talk." She laughed again. "I don't say as it's a mystery, but I can't help thinking he wants to keep the matter quiet like, you see." "But I don't see--and I don't intend to," I said obstinately. Delia changed the subject. "It's well you 've got your passage money. It's quite dear travelling that way." "Never was in a Pullman in my life, Delia, but you may believe I shall enjoy it." She beamed on me. "That's right, my dear, take all the pleasure you can, and, of course, if Doctor Rugvie did n't mind--well, I must own up to it that I 'd like to hear from you, and what you make of it up there." "So you shall, Delia; no secrets between you and me; there can't be; we 've known each other too long--ever since I was born into the world." She looked a little mystified at my statement, but accepted it evidently with appreciation. "Jane or me 'll be down to the station to see you off," she said as she bade me good night. During the next two weeks and at odd times, I did a good bit of reference work on my own account in looking up the histories of the Canadian "Seigniories"; but at the end of that time I was ready to set out for that other country only a little wiser for my research. A week later, Delia Beaseley was at the Grand Central to see me start on my journey northwards. "I feel as if I were setting out on a real series of adventures, Delia!" I exclaimed when I met her. I took both her hands in mine. "If only I were a man I should take stick and knapsack and find my way on foot. I 'd camp on the shore of the Tappan Zee, wander through the Catskills, and stop over night at the old Dutch farmhouses, follow the shores of Lake Champlain and cross the border high of heart, even if footweary!" Delia smiled indulgently upon me.