"I am almost tempted to believe that, after what I have heard and seen," he thoughtfully admitted.
"I hope you do not feel that I did not appreciate your kindness," Katherine observed, a note of appeal in her voice. "I know that you would have done your best for me, in your way. And now, let me thank you again for the lovely Jacks. I have not seen such beauties for a long time. I hope you received my note of acknowledgment."
"Yes, and wondered how you had managed to hold a pen, much more write your natural hand."
For a moment Katherine wondered how he could know her "natural hand"; then she remembered that he had asked an exchange of cards from herself and her mother the day before they landed the previous fall. She had just given her last one away, so had been obliged to write her name and address on a blank card.
"What is this little book, in which you were so absorbed as I came upon you?" he resumed, as he picked it up from the seat where she had laid it and turned to the title page. "U-m! another production by that remarkable woman! Do you understand it?"
"I am growing to understand it better every time I read it. There is much that is beautiful and helpful in it."
"Well, one would need to read over and over to comprehend what she teaches, and"—reflectively—"I am not sure but what it would be well worth one's while. But I must go. Dorrie will think I am very late this afternoon. An, revoir, Miss Minturn," and slipping the book into Katherine's hands, he lifted his hat and went his way, while she looked after him with shining eyes.
"Mamma sowed better than she knew, there; the soil is good and the seed is taking root," she told herself as she turned with a light heart back to her book.