lliffe asked me.

"I am afraid that I rather need a wash," I said, "after handling your big
salmon. Frenchy will take it over to your house. I must find out whether
any one has been looking for me. In Sweetapple Cove there is no such
thing as office hours, you know. People come at any time, from ever so
many miles away, and sit down patiently to await my return."

"Well, good-by, and thank you again, ever so much. You must certainly
come to-morrow and help us dispose of that fish."

She extended her hand, in friendly fashion, and I told her I was glad she
had enjoyed herself.

"We are going out fishing again, are we not?" she asked. "I want more
lessons from you, and I should like to watch you at work."

I told her that I would be very happy, and scrambled away up the
path to Sammy's house. Then I looked back, before opening the door. I
saw her still walking, followed by Frenchy who bore the salmon in
triumph. I could see how lithe she was and how the health and strength
of out-of-doors showed in her graceful gait.

"It is not good for man to live alone," I told myself, and after Mrs.
Sammy had informed me that there were no pressing demands for my services
I had lunch, after which I went to my room to write to Dora. I am doing
the best I can not to bother the little girl, yet I'm afraid I always
turn out something like a begging letter. But she always answers in a way
that is ever so friendly and nice. In her last letter she dragged in
again the fact that we were both still young, with the quite inaccurate
corollary that we didn't know our own minds yet. I told her my mind was
made up more inexorably than the laws of the Medes and the Persians, that
it was not going to change, and that if her own mind was as yet so
immature and youthful that it was not fully grown, she ought to give me a
better chance to help in its development. I suppose that in her answer
she will ignore this and speak of something else. That is what always
makes me so mad at Dora, bless her little heart!

CHAPTER XI

_From Miss Helen Jelliffe to Miss Jane Van Zandt_

_Dearest Aunt Jennie_:

I was looking at the calendar, this morning, and thought that some one
had made an extraordinary mistake, but I am now convinced that it will be
four weeks to-morrow since we first arrived in Sweetapple Cove. Your
accounts of delightful doings in Newport are most interesting, yet I am
sure that with you the time cannot possibly fly as it does h