‘Stay,’ said Heriot.  ’I took the liberty to write some notes.  My father is an Indian officer, you know, and some of the terms in the book are difficult without notes.  Richie, hand that paper.  Here they are, Miss Rippenger, if you’ll be so kind as to place them in the book.’

I was hoping with all my might that she would not deny him.  She did, and my heart sank.

‘Oh, I can read it without notes,’ she said, cheerfully.

After that, I listened with indifference to her petition to Boddy that I might be allowed to accompany her, and was not at all chagrined by his refusal.  She laid down the book, saying that I could bring it to her when I was out of disgrace.

In the evening we walked in the playground, where Heriot asked me to do a brave thing, which he would never forget.  This was that I should take a sharp run right past Boddy, who was pacing up and down before the gate leading into Julia’s garden, and force her to receive the letter.  I went bounding like a ball.  The usher, suspecting only that I hurried to speak to him, let me see how indignant he was with my behaviour by striding all the faster as I drew near, and so he passed the gate, and I rushed in.  I had just time to say to Julia, ‘Hide it, or I’m in such a scrape.’

The next minute she was addressing my enemy: 

‘Surely you would not punish him because he loves me?’ and he, though he spoke of insubordination, merited chastisement; and other usher phrases, seemed to melt, and I had what I believe was a primary conception of the power of woman.  She led him to talk in the gentlest way possible of how the rain had refreshed her flowers, and of this and that poor rose.

I could think of nothing but the darling letter, which had flashed out of sight as a rabbit pops into burrows.  Boddy departed with a rose.

‘Ah, Richie,’ she said, ‘I have to pay to have you with me now.’

We walked to the summer-house, where she read Heriot’s letter through.  ‘But he is a boy!  How old is Heriot?  He is not so old as I am!’

These were her words, and she read the letter anew, and read it again after she had placed it in her bosom, I meanwhile pouring out praises of Heriot.

‘You speak of him as if you were in love with him, Richmond,’ she said.

‘And I do love him,’ I answered.

‘Not with me?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I do love you too, if you will not make him angry.’

‘But do you know what it is he wants of me?’

I guessed:  ’Yes; he wants you to let him sit close to you for half an hour.’

She said that he sat very near her in church.

‘Ah,’ said I, ‘but he mustn’t interrupt the sermon.’

She laughed, and mouthed me over with laughing kisses.  ’There’s very little he hasn’t daring enough for!’

We talked of his courage.

‘Is he good as well?’ said Julia, more to herself than to me; but I sang out,