I went back to Airlee by train from Fawkshill. I had noticed the railway as I came in the morning, and I felt that the tram would be too slow. As a matter of fact it took nearly as long and cost me more money. But my mind was full of Windyridge and I was oblivious to everything else. When I reached the coffee-room of the hotel I was calmer, for somehow the old familiar sights and sounds of the city threw my cottage into the background, and I was able to view the situation dispassionately. Had I been a fool? Was not Farmer Goodenough right, after all; and had not his sound common sense saved me from committing myself to a rash and quixotic adventure? "Grace Holden," I said, "you have got to face this question, and not make an ass of yourself. Weigh up the pros and cons. Get pencil and paper and make your calculations and strike your balance, and don't for goodness' sake be emotional." Then my Inner Self said with great distinctness, "Grace Holden, the heather has called you! Listen to it!" And I went to bed and slept the sleep of the just. My first sensation on awaking was one of exhilaration. Not a single cloud of doubt or apprehension appeared upon the sky of my hopes; on the contrary, it was rosy bright with the promise of success. I like to trust my intuitions, for it seems to me you treat them unfairly and do not give them a chance of developing upon really strong lines if you don't do so. Intuitions are bound to become weak and flabby if you are always coddling them and hesitating whether to let them feel their feet. An intuition that comes to you deprecatingly, and hints that it does not expect to be trusted, is a useless thing that is dying of starvation. _My_ intuitions are healthy and reliable because I believe in them and treat them as advisers, and am becomingly deferential. It's nice to feel that your Inner Self likes you too well to lead you astray. I wrote several letters and chuckled to myself when I thought of the effect they would produce in certain quarters. I am just a nonentity, of course, in the city of London, and nobody outside of it ever heard of me so far as I know, and I am my own mistress, without a relative of any kind to lay a restraining hand upon my actions; yet there are just two or three people who will be interested in this new phase of madness. I can see Madam Rusty adjust her pince-nez and scan the postmark carefully before unfolding my note. And I dare bet anything that the glasses will fly the full length of the chain when she finds she has to pack up my belongings and despatch them to Windyridge. I always carry my cheque book with me in case of emergencies, so I have sent her a blank cheque "under five pounds" to cover her charges. I guess there won't be much change out of that when madam has filled it in.