“Won’t you step here, please?” he called out.

Without answering, she immediately came over the wet grass to the window.

“I have something to say to you,” he said, “and I don’t want to keep you standing in the rain.  Won’t you come inside for a few minutes?”

“No, thank you,” said she.  “I don’t mind a slight rain like this.  I have lived so long in the city that I can’t imagine how country people can bear to shut themselves in, when it happens to be a little wet.  I can’t stand it, and I am going out for a walk.”  “It is a very sensible thing to do,” said Lawrence, “and I wish I could go with you and have a good long talk.”

“What about?” said she.

“About Miss March.”

“Well, I am rather tired of that subject,” she said, “and so I reckon it is just as well that you should stay here by your fire—­I see you have one there—­and that I should take my walk by myself.”

“Mrs Null,” said Lawrence, “I want to implore you to do a favor for me.  I don’t see how it can be disagreeable to you, and I am sure it will confer the greatest possible obligation upon me.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“I want you to go to Miss March, and endeavor, in some way—­you will know how, better than I can tell you—­to induce her to let me have a few words with her.  If it is only here at this open window it will do.”

Mrs Null laughed.  “Imagine,” she said, “a woman putting on a waterproof and overshoes, and coming out in the rain, to stand with an umbrella over her head, to be proposed to!  That would be the funniest proceeding I ever heard of!”

Lawrence could not help smiling, though he was not in the mood for it.  “It may seem amusing to you,” he said, “but I am very much in earnest.  I am in constant fear that she will go away while I am confined to this house.  Do you know how long she intends to stay?”

“She has not told me,” was the answer.

“If you will carry it,” he said, “I will give you a message for her.”

“Why don’t you write it?” said Miss Annie.

“I don’t want to write anything,” he said.  “I should not know how it had been received, nor would it be likely to get me any satisfaction.  I want a live, sympathetic medium, such as you are.  Won’t you do this favor for me?”

“No, I won’t,” said Miss Annie, her very decided tone appearing to give a shade of paleness to her features.  “How often must I tell you that I will not help you in this thing?”

“I would not ask you,” said Lawrence, “if I could help myself.”

“It is not right that you should ask me any more,” she said.  “I am not in favor of your coming here to court Miss March, while my cousin is away, and I should feel like a traitor if I helped you at all, especially if I were to carry messages to her.  Of course, I am very sorry for you, shut up here, and I will do anything I can to make you more comfortable and contented; but what you ask is