Here the conversation ended. Sammy departed with a tug of his tow forelock, doubtless a legacy from ancestors who now sleep quietly across the ocean. Sarah bustled him out of the room, as one shoos chickens, and I lay back on my pillows and laughed. There is more to Sammy's melancholy than meets the eye. I seem to see Rosie Allan's fine Yankee hand in this. However, sooner or later I shall solve the mystery, for all Green Hill comes, now and again, to this peaceful room.
I've peeped into my new books, and nibbled at something which starts out by acting like a peach and ends up by becoming an apricot. And now I will write to my Fairy Godfather. For I have a Great Idea, Diary, which I will not confide to you until it has taken shape.
Green Hill
July 4
We've been celebrating today! Even unto firecrackers under my window—I am only grateful that they were not under my bed! Doctor Denton, who arrived this morning with Doctor Mac in tow, unbent sufficiently to present me with a small silk flag. I was coldly sweet to him, but warmly so to his companion. It's nice to have Doctor Mac at home—language, beetle-brows, and all! He was led into the room by his younger colleague, and brought to my bedside, with an air of "Eureka! Behold my handiwork!"
Doctor Mac is very much pleased with my appearance—from a medical standpoint—and before the two of them departed, it was practically settled that I should begin the massage so that the out-of-doors campaign might be started.
I informed Doctor Denton that I had a letter from his uncle, to which he remarked.
"Didn't know you corresponded!"
Curiously enough, the news appeared to annoy him.
Diary, here is the letter which went to the White Mountains today. May your covers turn red if ever you divulge it!
Green Hill
July 4th