That night I fought it all out with myself about Peter.  I felt that Sam had brought the sore spot in my heart to head and I would have to operate and find out what was really there.  Accordingly, after I had safely anchored myself in the middle of my old four-poster bed I slashed myself.  This is what I found.  That I had made up my mind to marry Peter just as soon as he wanted me to, which I knew would not be until after the play was finished down in Sam’s wilderness.  I had two reasons for my intention.  Nobody in the world ever loved and depended on me as Peter has always done since he read me the winning poem that he sent in for his Junior Prize.  Peter needs me, and nobody else in the world does.  What could love be but giving and cherishing the beloved?  By the test of how I longed to do all that to Peter I found out how I loved him.  That was the reason I openly admitted, but I am afraid that I was afraid of Sam if I should fail his young David-Keats in any way.  He had already warned me what I must be to him, and I felt as I did about that heifer I let get by me the first day I went to dig Sam out of the hollow tree to which he has now had to build a new crotch in order to take in Peter.  This time I would head off his calf for him, though I didn’t mean to call Peter that, even in the heat of debate with myself.  Oh, I could take such good care of Peter and Judge Vandyne, and Mabel would be so glad!  My spirits rose at the thought of their joy, and as I felt better, I luxuriated in the thought of Sam’s approbation.  I would give Peter the answer he had begged for in every letter, help him with the play until it was finished, and then have a glorious wedding, with Edith and Sue and Julia and all the girls.  I must have fallen asleep then, for I dreamed that Julia was the bride at my wedding and that I couldn’t get there.  When I woke from that nightmare I decided to let Sam have the happiness of hearing Peter tell him of my submission to their wishes; and that time I sobbed myself to sleep.

From that fatal night until the afternoon of Peter’s arrival, I saw Sam only three times, and those when there were many others with us.  I was so sweet and submissive to him that I saw I alarmed him greatly.

Peter arrived according to schedule and was met in the manner planned by our friends.  As he stood on the train platform just behind a woman and a baby, I saw his great dark eyes, that seem fairly to glow out of his beautiful face, eagerly race over the crowd.  When they rested on me they lit with what I thought was perfect joy until I saw them find Sam a few seconds later.  That was the real thing, and I never loved Peter better than when I saw him hold Sam’s hand in his while he was greeting me in a suppressed, lover-like way and was being introduced to people.  Sam was also radiant.  Peter and Sam and I are the eternal triangle that Peter is always talking into plots for plays—­only Sam is the apex instead of me.  Isn’t it beautiful to have it that way?