"You." I whispered the word and was afraid she would laugh at me, but she didn't. She stopped and looked very serious and asked: "What makes you think you love me?" "Well, when you go away I shall think an' think about you an' feel as I do when the leaves an' the flowers are all gone an' I know it's going to be winter, an' I guess next Sunday Shep an' I will go down to the brook an' come back through the meadow, an' I'll kind o' think it all over--what you said an' what I said an' how warm the sun shone an' how purty the wheat looked, an' I guess I'll hear that little bird singing." We stopped and listened to the song of a bird--I do not remember what bird it was--and then she whispered: "Will you love me always and forever?" "Yes," I answered in the careless way of youth. She stopped and looked into my eyes and I looked into hers. "May I kiss you?" I asked, and afraid, with cheeks burning. She turned away and answered: "I guess you can if you want to." Now I seem to be in Aladdin's tower and to see her standing so red and graceful and innocent in the sunlight, and that strange fire kindled by our kisses warms my blood again. It was still play, although not like that of the grand ladies and the noble gentlemen in which we had once indulged, but still it was play--the sweetest and dearest kind of play which the young may enjoy, and possibly, also, the most dangerous. She held my hand very tightly as we went on and I told her of my purpose to be a great man. My mind was in a singular condition of simplicity those days. It was due to the fact that I had had no confidant in school and had been brought up in a home where there was neither father nor mother nor brother. That night I heard a whispered conference below after I had gone up-stairs. I knew that something was coming and wondered what it might be. Soon Uncle Peabody came up to our little room looking highly serious. He sat down on the side of his bed with his hands clasped firmly under one knee, raising his foot below it well above the floor. He reminded me of one carefully holding taut reins on a horse of a bad reputation. I sat, half undressed and rather fearful, looking into his face. As I think of the immaculate soul of the boy, I feel a touch of pathos in that scene. I think that he felt it, for I remember that his whisper trembled a little as he began to tell me why men are strong and women are beautiful and given to men in marriage. "You'll be falling in love one o' these days," he said. "It's natural ye should. You remember Rovin' Kate?" he asked by and by. "Yes," I answered. "Some day when you're a little older I'll tell ye her story an' you'll see what happens when men an' women break the law o' God. Here's Mr. Wright's letter. Aunt Deel asked me to give it to you to keep. You're old enough now an' you'll be goin' away to school before long, I guess." I took the letter and read again the superscription on its envelope: