Martha considered. "Well, when I was your age, I thought I did. But now, the only thing I know, is, I don't."
Cora pursed her lips. "Do you know, I think Dr. Ballard likes Miss Crewe a lot."
"What makes you think so?"
"Well, the other day, I saw'm walkin' together down Cherry Lane. An' to-day I saw'm again. An' I think it looks awful loverish to be walkin' in Cherry Lane, where the trees branch over so, an' it's all quiet, an' green, an' lonesome, an' nobody hardly ever comes, exceptin'——"
"Snoopy little girls who've no business there," supplied her mother genially.
Cora sniffed. "Well, I guess you'll be glad I was there, when you see what I got. An' I guess they'll be glad too. One of'm dropped it an' never noticed, an' went off, an' left it lyin' in the middle o' the lane. After they'd gone, I saw somethin' kind o' like a yellow spot sittin' up in the grass, an' I went an' picked it up, an' it was a bunch o' letters, tied with a pink ribbon. The ribbon's so old it most frays away before you touch it."
Martha extended a quiet, but coercive palm. "Hand it over."
Cora obeyed, craning her neck to see the last of the fascinating sheaf.
"Ain't it funny writin'?" she inquired. "'Mifter Daniel Ballard.' What does Mifter mean, mother? She don't call him Mifter inside. She calls him, 'Beloved Daniel.'"
"How do you know?"