"So it was intended for me!" she cried, throwing down her bundle and dropping to her knees. She secured that particular slip and examined it earnestly. Not for worlds would she pick up all the scraps and endeavor to sort them. Yet they had a fascination for her, and at this closer range she saw another which bore the legend—"I love you!"
Somehow the two seemed to fit together very nicely.
Yet a third carried the same words—"I love you!" They were still quite coherent. She did not want to look any further. She did not even turn over such of the torn pieces as had fluttered to earth face downwards.
Opening the front of her bodice she brought to light a small gold locket containing miniatures of her father and mother. Inside this receptacle she carefully placed the three really material portions of the sailor's letter. When Jenks walked down the hill again he heard her singing long before he caught sight of her, sedulously tending the fire.
As he came near he perceived the remains of his useless document. He stooped and gathered them up, forthwith throwing them among the glowing logs.
"By the way, what were you writing whilst I had my bath?" inquired Iris, demurely.
"Some information about the mine. On second thoughts, however, I saw it was unnecessary."
"Oh, was that all?"
"Practically all."
"Then some part was impracticable?"