14 MILES 



At this point we discovered that our diary was left 

 twenty miles back at Penacook. Our first dilemma paled 

 before this, for that diary means something; indeed, it 

 means everything. Without it, life would not be worth 

 living — even were it possible. We must have it. But 

 how should we get it? We went back to the man in the 

 garden, and he told us a train would go down directly, 

 and we could get back the same afternoon, he thought. 

 W^e considered it only a moment, for having lost our way 

 and the diary, we feared losing each other or Charlie 

 next. We returned to the carriage, unharnessed Charlie, 

 tied him to a telegraph pole, then took our luncheon. 

 After a good rest our way seemed clear, and we started 

 on towards Bristol, resolved that we would make no 

 more plans, but give ourselves up to the guidance of 

 Fate. We find in the "jotting column" for that day, "A 

 criss-cross day." Our honest intention to go straight to 

 Mt. Washington was overthrown, and we found our- 

 selves at night castaways on the shores of Newfound 

 Lake, while our letters awaited us at Weirs, and the 

 diary was speeding its way to Plymouth, in response to a 

 telegram. 



Eleven miles driving the next morning brought us to 

 the Pemigewasset House, Plymouth, just in season to 

 telephone our mail from Weirs on the one o'clock train. 

 We felt like embracing the express boy who handed us 

 the precious sealed package from Penacook. Thanks 

 and a quarter seemed a poor expression of our real feel- 

 ings. Perfect happiness restored, where should we go to 

 enjoy it over Sunday? Fate suggested Rumney, and we 

 quickly assented, remembering its delightful quiet, and 



97 



