She fell into a seat as he went out, and heard his feet on the
stair--then he stood beside her again.

"Leila, forgive me--I was hard--uncourteous--to make you say--"

"Hush!" she cried, between tears and laughter, as she put her hand over
his mouth, "no one shall abuse my Jack--not even Captain Penhallow.
There, sir! I deserved it." She ran by him, and was gone.

I have not the pass-words into fairyland, and where they rode that
morning in September is not within my knowledge; nor can I say what
adventures they may have met with. The byways of this enchanted land
here and there by ill-luck come near to the haunts of men, who may catch
glimpses of such as ride through fairyland unsuspicious of other eyes.
Billy neglectful of mails this morning, was on the river bobbing for
eels. To be long attentive to anything was for him impossible, wherefore
his wandering gaze caught sight for a moment through the fringe of
willows of two people riding slowly. He saw with amazement that on
horseback in fairyland the feat of kissing is possible.

Some hours later, my lovers, feeling as John wickedly quoted, that "the
world is too much with us," rode into Westways to get Billy's neglected
mail.

Mr. Crocker, lean and deaf, at ease in charge of the grocery counter, sat
unoccupied in his shirt sleeves, while Mrs. Crocker bent over the mail
she had sorted. There were letters for the little group of village folk,
who read them at once as they sat on the step or as they moved away
stumbling along the sidewalk.

Mrs. Crocker sallied out with a batch of letters. "Quite a lot, Captain.
Good-morning, Leila."

"Mail these, Mrs. Crocker," said the travellers fresh from fairyland.

"I saw some was from the Squire and some from Mrs. Penhallow--Squire's
writing better."

"You wicked Mrs. Crocker," said John, "how much you pick up of folk's
secrets, I should like to know--"

"Secrets!" laughed Leila. "They can't be read on the outside of letters."

Then Mrs. Crocker on the sidewalk to them on horseback began to talk.
John seeing that Leila was interested and amused sat still and listened.

"Secrets," exclaimed the post-mistress, "ain't all inside of letters.
They're on the envelopes sometimes. Oh! I've seen 'em in war time,
letters that looked like they'd been out in the rain--sort of blistered;
and people here in those days just tore open their letters and laughed or
cried." Mrs. Crocker caught her breath and paused.

"I know, John,"