A JOURNEY TO NATURE 



on my heart to restrain my heroism. The drone 

 of the carpenter bee at the window and the voice 

 of Charlie on the wire grass with the yellow dog, 

 were the only sounds, save the occasional quick 

 rat-a-tat of a woodpecker somewhere. I turned 

 the last batch of letters that I had brought with 

 me out of my breast pocket. How odd they 

 looked in that place with their club monograms 

 and hotel imprints. Some of them were super 

 scribed &quot;Immediate&quot; and &quot;Personal&quot; and &quot;Wait 

 for answer.&quot; Two or three of them were small 

 and mauve and probably scented. I had not 

 opened any of them, for I knew very well what 

 was in them, and I was not going to weaken then. 

 I pushed them aside and tried to get my bearings. 

 Did I know where I was ? Well rather. The 

 nearest house was a mile across the hill and valley 

 to the northeast. It was somebody s deserted 

 &quot; Folly.&quot; The old man raised hay and butter 

 milk, and had a niece named Griselle. She never 

 heard of me until her uncle told her that a strange 

 gentleman with his boy had hired the cabin for a 

 year on account of his health, and she came over 

 and put things to rights. I never told her nor 

 Charlie that I had been there before it was 

 nearly ten years before. What was the use ? 

 They would not have understood. I had boarded 

 in the &quot; Folly &quot; for a month. Somehow that 

 romantic runaway may have led to this, but 

 Charlie couldn t understand that, and it would 

 be foolish to tell him that one day his mother 

 and I were caught in a shower and took refuge 



