She did not understand him even then, but satisfied that it was all well between them, she released herself from his embrace and continued: “Do you think he’ll write and finish what he was going to say?” “Of course he will,” answered Oliver, and Mildred was about to ask if he believed she’d get the letter the next night, when old Hepsy came up and said to her rather stiffly: “You’ve talked with him long enough. He’s all beat out now. It’s curis what little sense some folks has.” “Grandmother,” Oliver attempted to say, but Mildred’s little hand was placed upon his lips, and Mildred herself said: “She’s right, Olly. I have worried you to death. I’m afraid I do you more hurt than good by coming to see you so often.” He _knew_ she did, but he would not for that that she should stay away, even though her thoughtless words caused him many a bitter pang. “Come again to-morrow,” he said, as she went from his side, and telling him that she would, she bounded down the stairs, taking with her, as the poor, sick Oliver thought, all the brightness, all the sunshine, and leaving in its stead only weariness and pain. Up the Cold Spring path she ran, blithe as a singing-bird, for she saw the Judge upon the back piazza, and knew he had returned. “Come here, Gipsy,” he cried, and in an instant Mildred was at his side. “Broke up in a row, didn’t we?” he said, parting back her hair, and tapping her rosy chin. “How far along had he got?” “He hadn’t got along at all,” answered Mildred, “and I don’t believe he was going to say anything, do you?” Much as he wished to tease her, the Judge could not resist the pleading of those eyes, and he told her all he knew of the matter, bidding her wait patiently until to-morrow night, and see what the mail would bring her. “Oh, I wish it were to-morrow now,” sighed Mildred. “I’m afraid there’s some mistake, and that he didn’t mean _me_ after all.” Laughing at what he called her nervousness, the Judge walked away to give some orders to his men, and Mildred tried various methods of killing time, and making the day seem shorter. Just before sunset she stole away again to Oliver, but Hepsy would not let her see him. “He’s allus wus after you’ve been up there,” she said. “He’s too weakly to stan’ the way you rattle on, so you may as well go back,” and Mildred went back, wondering how her presence could make Oliver worse, and thinking to herself that she would not go to see him once during the next day, unless, indeed, the letter came, and then she must show it to him,—he’d feel so badly if she didn’t. The to-morrow so much wished for came at last, and spite of Mildred’s belief to the contrary, the hours did go on as usual, until it was five o’clock, and she heard the Judge tell Finn to saddle the horses, and ride with him to the village. “I am going up the mountain a few miles,” he said; “and as Mildred will want to see the evening papers before my return, you must bring them home.”