It was Beata who had tapped on my door, and after my weak-kneed “Come—” she opened it and came in, and as she crossed the floor to reach me she held out a lavender striped box that was tied with silver cord. I took it, and it did seem to me that the silver cord would never come untied—I suppose because I was so excited—but at last I got the knot out and the cover off, and I saw a bunch of big purple violets that smelled of earth and of their own soft, sweet perfume. I couldn’t believe they were for me! I had never had violets sent to me before.
But they were for me, and after Beata, who had lingered from interest and frankly looked on, said, “Signorina, la carte!” I picked up the envelope that was in the bottom of the box, and read on it,
“For
“Miss ‘Plain Jane Jones’”
and then I tore that open and read the letter. It was from Sam Deane and it said:
“Dear Little Good Samaritan:
“Lots of luck has come to me—and may I say, bless you? I think I must! I can’t return the cream puffs, for somehow or other I mislaid the ones you loaned me, and I’m afraid I can’t match them.
“I would like to say lots, but your Mr. Wake is looking over my shoulder and telling me that you are a dear little girl—and don’t I know it?—but, dragons or not, I am going to be your friend, if you will let me.
“Mr. Wake wonders whether you will go walking with him, Saturday. He says he will call for you at three and return you when his waist line is sufficiently reduced.
“I can’t say thank you for all you have done for me; some day I will try to tell you how I feel, and I will show you always, by being