s religion--which
distressed her. But she is old now, and very delicate. She knows I
would never forgive her if she didn't have her little maid telegraph
for me when she is suffering. I always come at once, and would, no
matter where I was. You see, I've no mother of my own; and she is _his_
mother; it's almost the same as if she were mine. But don't look so
sad, dear. I'm not sad. She's going to get well. We've been glancing
over old photographs of his this evening. She has quite forgiven me for
the past."

"I should think so!" I couldn't help exclaiming. "You were the one who
suffered most."

"Not more than his mother, child! But she's old, as I said, and thank
heaven I'm beginning to grow old, too. Each day is one less before we
meet--he and I. That's what I'm looking forward to now, and I'm not a
bit sad, so kiss me, and tell me just what you think of those dear
things, the Trowbridges."

Going home, Mr. Brett and I walked along the road until we'd passed the
cow meadow; then we took to the short cuts again. A lovely blue
darkness was just touched with the faint radiance of a new moon, as if
the lid of a box had snapped shut on the sun; and the moment the light
was gone, the fields lit up with thousands and thousands of tiny,
pulsing, flitting sparks.

"What _is_ it?" I asked, astonished.

"Fireflies," said he. "Did you never see any before?"

"Never. How wonderful. They are the most exquisite, magical little
things!"

"Then I'm glad you're seeing them for the first time with me," he said.

I stopped, and made him stop, to look at the enchanted rain of tiny
lights. We stood in a billowy meadow, with the pale gray-green of the
stacked oats dimly silvered by the baby moon, that was hurrying down
the west after the sun. The bundles of grain made pointed, gothic
arches, and through these, back and forth, in and out, threaded the
fireflies, like fairies with lanterns searching for lost members of
their band.

What a pity they never come to England to search!

When we got home the stars were pricking out in the sky, and Patty and
Ide were down by the gate, counting them. It seems, if you can count
seven stars for seven nights, then the first man who touches your hand
afterwards you're bound to marry. I counted my first seven, and I do
hope it won't rain for a week.

Although I had been so longing for tea, I hadn't been hungry, and had
scarcely eaten anything when we had it. Now, I was beginning to be
starv