"You've saved twelve little bunny rabbits," said she.
"But I haven't," he replied. "I can see it now. When he was going, he stopped just before he got to the gate and called out that he was going to the post.
"'Can you lend me a shilling?' he said; 'I've forgotten my purse.'"
"And you lent it to him!" cried Bellwattle.
Cruikshank nodded his head.
"You'd better count that given," said I. "It was the price of the tomatoes."
CHAPTER X
Clarissa has got my letter! But that is not all. I delivered it myself. I have met Clarissa, have talked with her, have passed that third stage in my journey which an odd week or so ago I would not have credited as possible.
Oh, but you will laugh when you hear the little that I said to her—the little indeed that she said to me. Yet it is the beginning. She still has my letter to read. I find myself gazing into distances which I never knew of, seeking for the answer she will give.
It came about much as I had expected; more easily, too, for the matter of that. And the longer I keep my secret to myself, the more confident am I that Bellwattle knows all about it. Does she speak to her husband, I wonder? Somehow I think not. The days go by. The hope of fish in the river becomes more and more remote. Cruikshank works on solemnly in his garden and never says a word to me questioning why I remain. Perhaps that is because she has told him. Yet is he ever actor enough to keep it so stubbornly to himself? He may be. Possibly I do not know the nature of these gardeners. There may be depths in Cruikshank's mind which I have never fathomed.