heart I've wished for you a hundred times.
The moon suggests Querida; but about everything suggests you. Now are
you flattered?

"Anyway, I do want you. I like you, Louis! I like you, Mr. Neville! And
oh, Kelly, I worship you, without sentiment or any nonsense in reserve.
You are life, you are happiness, you are gaiety, you are inspiration,
you are contentment.

"I wonder if it would be possible for you to come up here for a day or
two after your visit to your parents is ended. I'd adore it. You'd
probably hate it. Such food! Such beds! Such people! But--could
you--would you come--just to walk in the heavenly green with me? I
wonder.

"And, Louis, I'd row you about on the majestic expanse of the
stump-pond, and we'd listen to the frogs. Can you desire anything more
romantic?

"The trouble with you is that you're romantic only on canvas. Anyway, I
can't stir you to sentiment. Can I? True, I never tried. But if you come
here, and conditions are favourable, and you are so inclined, and I am
feeling lonely, nobody can tell what might happen in a flat scow on the
stump-pond.

"To be serious for a moment, Louis, I'd really love to have you come.
You know I never before saw the real country; I'm a novice in the woods
and fields, and, somehow, I'd like to have you share my novitiate in
this--as you did when I first came to you. It is a curious feeling I
have about anything new; I wish you to experience it with me.

"Rita is awake and exploring the box of Maillard's which is about
empty. Be a Samaritan and send me some assorted chocolates. Be a god,
and send me something to read--anything, please, from Jacobs to James.
There's latitude for you. Be a man, and send me yourself. You have no
idea how welcome you'd be. The chances are that I'd seize you and
embrace you. But if you're willing to run that risk, take your courage
in both hands and come.

"Your friend,

"VALERIE WEST."

The second week of her sojourn she caught a small pickerel--the only
fish she had ever caught in all her life. And she tearfully begged the
yokel who was rowing her to replace the fish in its native element. But
it was too late; and she and Rita ate her victim, sadly, for dinner.

At the end of the week an enormous box of bonbons came for her. Neither
she nor Rita were very well next day, but a letter from Neville did
wonders to restore abused digestion.

Other letters, at intervals, cheered her immensely, as did baskets of
fruit and boxe