me de Sylvestre Bonnard." It is a perfectly darling story, and
Anatole France, who wrote it, must be a darling, too. The Princess
knows him and promises that he shall dine with us some day. I expect
to fall in love with him immediately.

Good night, dear Mr. Neeland. I _hope_ you will write to me.

Your little Gayfield friend grown up,
Ruhannah Carew.

This letter he finally did answer, not voluminously, but with all
cordiality. And, in a few days, forgot about it and about the girl to
whom it was written. And there was nothing more from her until early
summer.

Then came the last of her letters--an entirely mature missive, firm in
writing, decisive, concise, self-possessed, eloquent with an
indefinite something which betrayed a calmly ordered mind already
being moulded by discipline _mondaine_:

* * * * *

My dear Mr. Neeland:

I had your very kind and charming letter in reply to mine written last
January. My neglect to answer it, during all these months, involves
me in explanations which, if you like, are perhaps due you. But if you
require them at all, I had rather surrender them to you personally
when we meet.

Possibly that encounter, so happily anticipated on my part, may occur
sooner than you believe likely. I permit myself to hope so. The note
which I enclose to you from the lady whom I love very dearly should
explain why I venture to entertain a hope that you and I are to see
each other again in the near future.

As you were kind enough to inquire about myself and what you describe
so flatteringly as my "amazing progress in artistic and worldly
wisdom," I venture to reply to your questions in order:

They seem to be pleased with me at the school. I have a life-drawing
"on the wall," a composition sketch, and a "_concours_" study in oil.
That I have not burst to atoms with pride is a miracle inexplicable.

I have been told that my progress at the piano is fair. But I am very
certain I shall do no more with vocal and instrumental music than to
play and sing acceptably for such kind and uncritical friends as do
not demand much of an amateur. Without any unusual gifts, with a
rather sensitive ear, and with a very slightly cultivated and
perfectly childish voice--please do not expect anything from me to
please you.

In French I am already becoming fluent. You see, except for cert