“May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. She was clear there were no other minds like them in all the world.
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