she has with her!—­I saw her to-day, when she received a letter from you.  It came in one from Mrs. James.  I was making believe read, but peeped at her sideways, just as I have seen you do at the girls in meeting-time.  She slipped yours into her pocket, with such a blush,—­then looked up, sort of scared, to see if I noticed anything; but I was reading my book.  Then she stepped quickly out of the room, and I saw her, a moment after, go through the garden into the apple-orchard, and along the path to the low-branching apple-tree, to read it all alone.”

This tree I knew well.  It was an irregular old apple-tree, one of whose branches formed of itself a nice seat, where Fanny and I had often sat from childhood up.

Afterwards she writes,—­

“You have sent Rachel a ring,—­a pearl ring; you didn’t tell me, but I know.  I have seen her kiss it. (Does this please you?) I happened to find it yesterday, while rummaging her box for the buttonhole scissors.  (She sent me there.) Said I,—­’Oh, what a pretty ring!  Why don’t you wear it?’ I never thought till I had spoken; but then I knew in a minute, by her looking so red.  She said she’d a reason for thinking it would not be quite right to wear it,—­said perhaps she would tell sometime.  It was last night I saw her kiss it, when she thought I was asleep,—­we sleep in the same room.  She tried it on her finger, but took it right off again, sighing, and looking so sad that I don’t know what I should have done, had I not known how it was all coming out right pretty soon.—­Aunt Huldah is completely entangled in my web.  She has come into it with her sharp eyes wide open!  She likes Rachel,—­says she always knows where to take hold, and makes no fuss about doing things.  She gets her to read the chapter, because she says she likes the sound of her voice.  There is not only sound, but feeling in her voice, and that is what aunt means; but you know she never says all she means,—­she isn’t one of the kind.  Rachel is always doing little things for her, and bringing home bunches of sweet-fern and everlasting.  Even if my plan upsets now, much will be gained,—­for aunt can’t get back her liking, I have found a dear friend, and Rachel a good place.  Your name has been mentioned, but only as Charley.  I am in daily fear that aunt will allude to your school, though, to be sure, she is not at all communicative, (girls having brothers in college should use a big word now and then,) but we are getting so well acquainted that I begin to shake in my shoes.  But the mornings are busy, the noons are short, and you know aunt always goes to bed with the hens.  My dread is of callers,—­not just the neighbors running in, but the regulars.  It is so natural for them to say, ’How is your nephew?’—­not that they care for you, except as being something to talk about.”

Soon after, came the following:—­