that is, if he marries any one, I mean," she stammeringly corrected, a sudden flood of color in her face.
"Perhaps; but what if it happens to be a girl that he loves?" argued Jamie, stubbornly. "And, really, just stop to think. Have we had a single letter from her that hasn't told of his being there? And you know how he's always talking of Pollyanna in his letters."
Mrs. Carew got suddenly to her feet.
"Yes, I know," she murmured, with an odd little gesture, as if throwing something distasteful aside. "But—" She did not finish her sentence, and a moment later she had left the room.
When she came back in five minutes she found, much to her surprise, that Jimmy had gone.
"Why, I thought he was going with us on the girls' picnic!" she exclaimed.
"So did I," frowned Jamie. "But the first thing I knew he was explaining or apologizing or something about unexpectedly having to leave town, and he'd come to tell you he couldn't go with us. Anyhow, the next thing I knew he'd gone. You see,"—Jamie's eyes were glowing again—"I don't think I knew quite what he did say, anyway. I had something else to think of." And he jubilantly spread before her the two letters which all the time he had still kept in his hands.
"Oh, Jamie!" breathed Mrs. Carew, when she had read the letters through. "How proud I am of you!" Then suddenly her eyes filled with tears at the look of ineffable joy that illumined Jamie's face.
