"Indeed it would," said I. "And if you will allow me, I will say that
boys are unmitigated nuisances! If they are not hearing what they
ought not to hear, they are imagining what they ought not to
imagine--"

"And telling things that they ought not to tell," she added, with a
laugh.

"Which is an extremely bad thing," said I, "when there is nothing to
tell."

For the rest of that evening I was more lively than is my wont, for it
was a very easy thing to be lively in that family. I do not think I
gave any one reason to suppose that I was a man whose attention had
been called to a notice not to trespass.

As usual, I communed with myself before going to bed. Wherefore this
feeling of disappointment? What did it mean? Would I have said
anything of importance, of moment, to Mrs. Chester, if the boy Percy
had given me an opportunity? What would I have said? What could I have
said? I could see that she did not wish that I should say anything,
and now I knew the reason for it. It was all plain enough on her side.
Even if she had allowed herself any sort of emotion regarding me, she
did not wish me to indulge in anything of the land. But as for myself.
I could decide nothing about myself.

I smiled grimly as my eyes fell upon the little box of capsules. My
first thought was that I should take two of them, but then I shook my
head. "It would be utterly useless," I said; "they would do me no
good."

In the course of the next morning I found myself alone. I put on my
cap, lighted a pipe, and started down the flag walk to the gate. In a
few moments I heard running steps behind me, and, turning, I saw Miss
Edith. "Don't look cross," she said. "Were you going for a walk?"

I scouted the idea of crossness, and said that I had thought of taking
a stroll.

"That seems funny," said she, "for nobody in this house ever goes out
for a lonely walk. But you cannot go just yet. There's a man at the
back of the house with a letter for you."

"A letter!" I exclaimed. "Who in the world could have sent a letter to
me here?"

"The only way to find out," she answered, "is to go and see."

Under a tree at the back of the house I found a young negro man, very
warm and dusty, who handed me a letter, which, to my surprise, bore no
address. "How do you know this is for me?" said I.

He was a good-natured looking fellow. "Oh, I know it's for you, sir,"
said he. "They told me at the little tavern--the Holly something--that
I'd find you