The ending sounded a little stiff. Indeed, his whole letter seemed a little stiff and as if his heart were not in it. “Not such as Tom would write to the little one,” he thought, “but I’m not Tom, and she’s not the little one,” and then there swept over him a longing for something, he hardly knew what, except that it was different from the prospect opening before him and from which he found himself shrinking more and more. “It’s the giving up of my freedom, I dread,” he said to himself. “I’ve had my way so long as a fussy old bachelor that I shan’t know what to do with a wife upsetting my things and having opinions different from my own and shocking me with habits I know nothing about. I’m glad that twist of hair went out to sea. I couldn’t have borne to see it lying round as I might some day. I hope she hasn’t any more. Ah, well, it says somewhere ‘the wind is tempered to the shorn lamb,’ and I put my trust in Providence to steer me through the shoals of matrimony. Carlyle, I believe, felt some as I do before he married Janie, and they got on pretty well, except for a few squabbles, which Irene and I will never have. She is not as catty as Janie, and I hope I am not as selfish as Carlyle.” He read the letter over two or three times, and finally put it in an envelope and addressed it to “Miss Irene Burdick, New York.” Then it occurred to him that there should be some street and number to insure its delivery. This he did not know. Colin, when questioned, had lost the address of Mrs. Graham, which would presumably be that of Irene. There was nothing to do but go to Rena and get the direction. “I’ll do that,” he said, with a good deal of alacrity. It did not tire him, nor make him nervous, to think of calling upon Rena, and although his head was still aching, he resolved to go at once. He should feel better when the letter had gone and he was committed past recall. The day was hotter than any which had preceded it and was one of those sultry, sticky days when exertion of any kind seems a burden, and Rex felt it intensely, and would far rather have remained on the couch in his cool room than have gone out in the heat of the afternoon for a walk to Mrs. Parks’ through pastures and lane where there was no shade. “I am in for it and must brace up,” he said, and putting two plantain leaves in the top of his hat to keep his head cool, and taking the biggest umbrella he could find, he started along the short road through the pasture and meadow which led to Mrs. Parks’ house. CHAPTER XVII REX AND SAM