'You did, did you? Selfish old thing! and you meant to keep it all to yourself. What was it?'
Tamar looked anxiously and suspiciously in the kitchen fire, and placed her puckered hand to the side of her white linen cap.
'I dreamed, Ma'am, the night before he came, a great fellow was at the hall-door.'
'What! here?'
'Yes, Ma'am, this hall-door. So muffled up I could not see his face; and he pulls out a letter all over red.'
'Red?'
'Aye, Miss; a red letter.'
'Red ink?'
'No, Miss, red paper, written with black, and directed for you.'
'Oh!'