"Poor Mrs. Lathbun and her daughter won't go chestnutting any more after to-morrow," Lassie said, after they passed under the heavy shadows cast by Mrs. Wiley's huge trees. "I think that we ought to go back now, the mail will be in."
They turned around to walk back and enjoyed every step of the way. There is really nothing that lights up a lack of conversation like being in love.
As they passed the post-office they saw Mrs. Ray standing on the porch, tucked up in her shawl.
"There was a wreck," she called; "the mail's late."
"All right!" Ingram called in response.
Mrs. Ray watched them vanish out of the light cast by her open door, and then turned, went inside, and shut it. "I like that young man," she said to herself; "he's got a good face. I wish we were as sure of getting the dam as he is of getting that girl. We need the dam full as much as he thinks he needs her. It'll bring men and lots of money to this section, and this section needs men and money. All we've got around here is women and land, and women and land can't get very far without men and money. It's about time we was getting some show at prosperity. I do wonder how Sammy's getting along with his hens!"
Arrived at the hotel, Ingram bade Lassie good night and she went up-stairs, one trembling tumult of tangling sentiments as to the conversation now to ensue.
Alva's room was dark, but when Lassie whispered her name at the door, the answer came quickly.
"Is that you, dear? come to me. Lassie, how I have wanted you!"
Lassie crossed to the bed, from whence the voice came. She thought she knew why she was wanted, but she only said: "What is it, dear?"