"Frank will think that I am in love," he considered. "He will not understand the real state of my feeling. He will think that I am in love. I should conclude so in his place. But what matters it what he infers and concludes? I have written exactly what I thought and felt at the moment, and it is not from such revelations that wrong inferences are usually drawn. What I have written is true; and truth carries safely over land and sea--more safely than confidence compounded with caution. Frank deserves the simplest and freshest confidence from me. I am glad that no hesitation occurred to me while I wrote. It shall go--every word of it." He returned to his desk, sealed and addressed the letter, and placed it where it was sure to be seen in the morning, and carried to the post-office before he rose. CHAPTER NINE. CHILD'S PLAY. The afternoon arrived when the children were to have their feast in the summer-house. From the hour of dinner the little people were as busy as aldermen's cooks, spreading their table. Sydney thought himself too old for such play. He was hard at work, filling up the pond he had dug in his garden, having tried experiments with it for several weeks, and found that it never held water but in a pouring rain. While he was occupied with his spade, his sisters and the little Rowlands were arranging their dishes, and brewing their cowslip-tea. "Our mamma is coming," said Fanny to Matilda: "is yours?" "No; she says she can't come--but papa will." "So will our papa. It was so funny at dinner. Mr Paxton came in, and asked whether papa would ride with him; and papa said it was out of the question; it must be to-morrow; for he had an engagement this afternoon." "A very particular engagement, he said," observed Mary: "and he smiled at me so, I could not help laughing. Fanny, do look at Matilda's dish of strawberries! How pretty!" "There's somebody coming," observed little Anna, who, being too young to help, and liable to be tempted to put her fingers into the good things, was sent to amuse herself with jumping up and down the steps. "There now! That is always the way, is not it, Miss Young?" cried Fanny. "Who is it, George? Mr Enderby? Oh, do not let him come in yet! Tell him he must not come this half-hour." Mr Enderby chose to enter, however, and all opposition gave way before him. "Pray don't send me back," said he, "till you know what I am come for. Now, who will pick my pockets?" Little Anna was most on a level with the coat pocket. She almost buried her face in it as she dived, the whole length of her arm, to the very bottom. George attacked its fellow, while the waistcoat pockets were at the mercy of the taller children. A number of white parcels made their appearance, and the little girls screamed with delight. "Miss Young!" cried Fanny, "do come and help us to pick Mr Enderby's pockets. See what I have got--the very largest of all!"