It would be my joy to trust myself to you utterly, to go with you to the world's end if you would have it so. Only I'm afraid that I am not quite what you would have me. I'm afraid that I might sometimes do things that would remind you that I had been only a scrubwoman. I'm afraid that some day you might regret. Were I to answer you now, I should answer you selfishly--so, please, you must give me time to think, for both our sakes. Love has never come near me before, and now I am a little afraid, for love is not little and tender and babyish, but great and strong and very fierce and masterful--that is why I am afraid of it. So I must go away from you, from the sound of your voice, the touch of your hand--to think it all out. My work will take me to Englewood to-morrow, and I want you to wait for your answer until I come back, for then I shall have decided one way or the other. But in Englewood the memory of your words will be with me still--oh, did you mean all, quite all you said, and did you say quite all you meant to say--did you? Did you? For indeed it has seemed to me that if you really meant all you said you might have said a little more--just a little more. This is a dreadfully long letter and very badly expressed, I know, but I dare not read it through. But what I have written is written from my heart. Hermione. P.S. I shall be in Englewood three whole days. "Will strawberry jam an' angel cake an' a bunch or so o' water cress be enough, Mr. Geoffrey?" Ravenslee sat staring down at the letter, rubbing his square, fresh-shaven chin as one very much at a loss. "'Might have said a little more--just a little more,'" he muttered, his gaze focussed upon a certain line. "Will water cress an' angel cake an' a pot o' strawberry jam soot, Mr. Geoffrey?" "Now I wonder what the dickens she can mean?" mused Ravenslee. "She means jest strawberry jam an' angel cake an' water cress, fer tea--fer your visitors," said Mrs. Trapes, with a patient sigh. "Visitors!" repeated Ravenslee, glancing up. "Why, yes, they'll be here about four o'clock." "An' will water cress an' angel cake an'--" "Quite enough! Certainly! Admirable!" exclaimed Ravenslee. "But what beats me," he continued, staring down at the letter again, "is what she can mean by writing this." "Not knowin' what she's wrote, I can't say." "Mrs. Trapes, I know you are Hermione's best and staunchest friend, and lately I have ventured to hope you are mine too. As such, I want you to read this letter--see if you can explain it!" So Mrs. Trapes took the letter; and when she had read it through, folded it together with hands very gentle and reverent and stood awhile staring out into the sunlit court. "My land!" she said at last, her harsh voice grown almost soft, "love's a wonderful thing, I reckon. No wonder your eyes shine so. Yes, love's a great an' wonderful thing--my land!" "But can you explain," said Ravenslee, as he took back the letter, "can you tell me what she means by--"