Amos stood looking down at the letter and remained silent. She laid a hand upon his arm and said, “What does it mean, Amos, about not letting you know who you are? Who are you?”
He looked up with a smile. “I don’t know; I can only guess.”
“Well, what do you guess?”
“I guess that I am the rajah of that province.”
“Really? Why, you don’t mean it! And have you always known it?”
“I don’t know it now, but I have always suspected it.”
“You funny old thing! Why, this is awfully exciting! And you never told me!”
“Why should I? Your father would only have hastened my departure if I had tried to pass myself off as a fairy prince; and you would have laughed in my face.”
“No. I am not so sure. But that was long ago, and to-day I should believe anything you told me.”
“Well, I believe you would,” and there, at the open window, he put his arm about her waist and did that unnecessary thing true lovers seem unable to resist. She jumped away to turn with an anxious face and look cautiously through the window. But the distant haymakers gave no signs of having received a shock.