"This June?"
"Next month. I've laid out the journey for you on a map, and I've got the names of the inns to stop at, and what it will cost you, and everything else."
"But when did you think of it?" asked my son.
"Last fall."
"Last fall! Does Aunt Letty know?"
"Partly," I said. "She knows you're going, but not herself. It's a little surprise for her. You may tell her yourself, now, while I stop at the office."
He scrambled out and hitched my horse for me, so I held the flowers. He flushed a little as he took them.
"Father, you're a trump," he said.
I bowed slightly: it is wise to be courteous even to a son. I had stopped at the office to get the map, and an hour later Letitia met me in our doorway.
"Bertram!" she said, taking my hand.