If the dear Lady wanted them to live with her, that would suit him all right; (alas! he did not know!) he loved her dearly, and he loved every nail in Ross House, Kitty knew that. If not, his own house was only let from year to year, and they would move right into that. [Illustration: Filling his pockets with gold, Tom strolled happily through the streets of Peking, looking in at all the bazaars.... ] "Kitty, you see I am taking it for granted that you have waited for me. What should I do if--but I _know_ you have! that is, I know it almost always, except when I'm dog-tired or the grub has given out. Once or twice, up in the mountains, I got a bit down, but it never lasted. Because, of course, you know how every hour and every minute I am thinking of you, my darling. You must have felt it, Kitty, even when you didn't get my letters, and I'm afraid they didn't always get through, but I hope so. You must have realized that it has been you, standing right beside me, going with me through everything, that has carried me over the rough places; and there have been some pretty rough ones, darling, but all that is over now, and in about two weeks I shall be sailing for home, the happiest man in the wide world, for you are at the other end, waiting for me--aren't you, Kitty?" Kitty got that letter. It arrived about a month after another arrival, to be chronicled in due time. Meantime the days came and went, and it was now late April. Not yet quite spring with us, but so near that one could hear her whispering over the hill-tops. Mother Earth was making ready to receive her. There was a vast deal of house-cleaning going on. Great rains sluiced out the roads, and filled the streams to overflowing; they rushed along, brown and foaming, carrying with them the unsightly leavings of winter, who had hurried off, as usual, without "redding up" in any way. The river flowed broad and swift, dotted with floating ice-cakes; the willows along the bank showed brown smoke touched with green. Here and there were bushes with blood-red stems, vivid as coral. In the woods, snow lingered in blackish patches; almost touching these patches, ferns were unrolling, hepaticas taking off their gray furs, bloodroot opening its lovely white cups. "And oh!" cried Kitty. "Don't speak to me, any one! I believe it's an anemone!" Kitty was having a holiday. Madam Flynt was not going out that afternoon; John Tucker would never let her, Kitty, meet the trains; Aunt Johanna had pronounced her pale, and bidden her walk five miles and bring back a color. She had meant to be back in time for one o'clock dinner, but as she came downstairs Sarepta appeared with a neat tin box and the announcement, "Here's a snack! You can have your dinner with your supper!" She vanished. Kitty peeped, saw chicken sandwiches and an apple turnover, and departed joyful. "Dear Sarepta," she murmured. "If one must have a tyrant, how nice to have one who can make turnovers!"