“I do care, Dorothy, dear! I care a great deal more than I can ever tell you. That is why I want you to go home for a rest tonight. I am seriously anxious about you. Let me explain to you. When one is well and strong and gets plenty of sleep, there is not much danger of infection. But when one is worn out with anxiety and loss of sleep as you are, the danger is very great. You are not afraid of taking the fever. I don’t believe you are afraid of anything, and I am proud of you for that. But I am afraid for you. Think how terrible it would be for me, Dorothy, if you should come down with this malady. Will you not go home for my sake, and for my sake get a good night’s sleep, so that you may come back fresh and well and cheery in the morning? You do not know, you can’t imagine how much I depend upon you for my own strength and courage. Several things trouble me just now, and I have a real need to see you bright and well and strong in the morning. Won’t you try to be so for my sake, Dorothy? Won’t you do as I bid you, just once?” “Just once?” she responded, with a rising inflection. “Just _always_, you ought to say. As long as I live I’ll do whatever you tell me to do--at least when you tell me the truth as you are doing now. You see I always know when you are telling the truth. With other people it is different. Sometimes I can’t tell how much or how little they mean. But I know you so well! And besides you’re always clumsy at fibbing, even when you do it for a good purpose. That’s why I like you so much--or,” pausing,--“that’s one of the reasons. Has Dick gone for Chestnut?” “Yes, Dick always obeys me.” “Oh, but that’s quite different. You are Dick’s master you know--” Then she hesitated again, presently adding, “of course you are my master too--only in a different way. Oh, I see now; you’re my guardian. Of course I must obey my guardian, and I’ll show him a bright, fresh face in the morning. Here comes Dick with Chestnut. Good night--Master!” From that hour Dorothy thought of Arthur always by that title of “master,” though in the presence of others she never so addressed him. Arthur watched her ride away in the light of the rising November moon, Dick following closely as her groom. And as he saw her turn at the entrance to the woodlands to wave him a final adieu, he said out loud: “I fear it is indeed too late!” XX A SPECIAL DELIVERY LETTER _W_hen Dorothy had disappeared, Arthur became conscious of a great loneliness, which he found it difficult to shake off. Presently he remembered that he had a letter to write, a letter which he had decided upon out there under the hickory trees. He had writing materials and a table in his own small quarters, but somehow he felt himself impelled to write this letter upon Dorothy’s own little lap desk and in Dorothy’s own little camp cottage.