ittle, and, at its screech along the uneven floor, Letty's head
turned quickly on her lithe neck, and she saw Godfrey's brown face and
kind blue eyes where she had never seen them before. In his hand glowed
the book: some of the stronger light from behind him fell on it, and it
caught her eyes.

"Letty," he said, "I have just come upon this book in my library: would
you care to have it?"

"You don't mean to keep for my own, Cousin Godfrey?" cried Letty, in
sweet, childish fashion, letting the skimmer dive like a coot to the
bottom of the milk-pool, and hastily wiping her hands in her apron. Her
face had flushed rosy with pleasure, and grew rosier and brighter still
as she took the rich morocco-bound thing from Godfrey's hand into her
own. Daintily she peeped within the boards, and the gilding of the
leaves responded in light to her smile.

"Poetry!" she cried, in a tone of delight. "Is it really for me, Cousin
Godfrey? Do you think I shall be able to understand it?"

"You can soon settle that question for yourself," answered Godfrey,
with a pleased smile--for he augured well from this reception of his
gift--and turned to leave the dairy.

"But, Cousin Godfrey--please!" she called after him, "you don't give me
time to thank you."

"That will do when you are certain you care for it," he returned.

"I care for it very _much_!" she replied.

"How can you say that, when you don't know yet whether you will
understand it or not?" he rejoined, and closed the door.

Letty stood motionless, the book in her hand illuminating the dusk with
gold, and warming its coolness with its crimson boards and silken
linings. One poem after another she read, nor knew how the time passed,
until the voice of her aunt in her ears warned her to finish her
skimming, and carry the jug to the pantry. But already Letty had taken
a little cream off the book also, and already, between the time she
entered and the time she left the dairy, had taken besides a fresh
start in spiritual growth.

The next day Godfrey took an opportunity of asking her whether she had
found in the book anything she liked. To his disappointment she
mentioned one of the few commonplace things the collection contained--a
last-century production, dull and respectable, which, surely, but for
the glamour of some pleasant association, the editor would never have
included. Happily, however, he bethought himself in time not to tell
her the thing was worthless: such a word, in