Lewis did not answer, but when, two days later, they were out after strawberries, and Natalie led him through a wood in the valley to the foot of the pasture with the oaks and the spring, Lewis stopped her. "Don't let's go up there, Nan," he said. "That's part of somebody else's land of dreams. Dad's tip there somewhere, I'm sure." Natalie looked at him, and he saw in her eyes that she knew all that he had not told in words. CHAPTER XLVIII Leighton and Lewis made two business trips away from the homestead, and on both occasions, as soon as affairs permitted, hurried back with equal eagerness. Leighton tried to read significance into the fact that Lewis was not chafing at his absence from Folly, but he could not because Lewis wrote to Folly every week, and seemed to revel in telling her everything. Folly's answers were few and far between. Leighton would have given much to see one of Folly's letters. He wondered if her maid wrote them for her. He used to watch Lewis reading them. They were invariably short--mere notes. Lewis would read each one several times to make it seem like a letter. He seemed to feel that his father would like to see one of the letters, and one day, to keep himself from calling himself coward, he impulsively handed one over. Leighton read the scant three pages slowly. It was as though Folly had reached across the sea to scratch him again, for the note was well written in a bold, round hand. It was short because Folly combined the wisdom of the serpent with the voice of a dove. She knew the limits of her shibboleth of culture, and never passed them. She said only the things she had learned to write correctly. They were few. The few weeks at the homestead had changed Leighton. A single mood held him--a mood that he never threw off with a toss of his head. He seemed to have lost his philosophy of cheerfulness at the word of command. Lewis was too absorbed in his long days with Natalie to notice it, but Nelton took it upon himself to open his eyes. "Larst month," he said, "you and the governor was brothers. Now persons don't have to ask me is he your father. It's written in his fyce. It's this country life as has done it. Noisy, I calls it. No rest." Lewis felt penitent. He suggested to Leighton a day together, a tramp and a picnic, but Leighton shook his head. "I don't want to have to talk," he said bluntly. "Dad," said Lewis, "let's go away." Leighton started as though the words were something he had too long waited for. "Go away?" he repeated. How often had he said, "To go away is the sovereign cure." "Yes," he went on, "I believe you are right. I think it's high time--past time--for me to clear. Will you come or stay?" "I'll come if it's London," said Lewis, smiling. "London first, of course," said Leighton, gravely. "To-day is Tuesday. Say we start on Thursday. That gives us a day to go over and say good-by." "One day isn't enough," said Lewis. "Make it two." "All right," agreed Leighton.