I awoke the next morning with the feeling that something or other was
impending. I had no idea what it might be, pleasant or unpleasant. I
felt a little the way you feel just before a race on which you have bet
altogether too much money, a little excited, a little nervous, equally
ready for laughter or anger. I had also the feeling that I had a great
many things to do, and could not possibly get them done in so short a
space of time as one day.
I hurried through breakfast. I hurried through the papers. And then I
realized with a sense of anti-climax that until four o'clock, when I
was to ride with Lucy, I had but one thing of any possible importance
to do. And upon that business from first to last including the walk to
the village and thence to the Club I spent no more than three-quarters
of an hour. It had been an eccentric piece of business, and I was
rather pleased with myself for having brought it to a satisfactory
conclusion. But I wanted others to know what I had done and to be
pleased with me for doing it; and to tell anyone was quite out of the
question.
In the Club letter-box under "M," I saw a small gray envelope.
Instinct told me that it was for me, and that it was from Lucy. Then
somehow all my feeling of restlessness and suspense melted away like a
lump of sugar in hot tea. I felt at once serene and comfortable.
I carried the note to a writing-table, for I imagined that it would
require an immediate answer, and then read it. Like all Lucy's notes
it began without the conventional endearment, and ended with initials.
It contained also her usual half-dozen mistakes in spelling.
John says he has no money and can't get any. So we've got to close the
house and go back north, and live very cheaply till better times. So
I've got to begin packing. So I can't ride this afternoon. Isn't it
all a beastly shame? But please drop in and say how-dy-do just the
same, and don't mind if you have to sit on a trunk. And please be a
little sorry because I'm going away and we can't have any more rides.
And please don't say anything about this; because John isn't just
himself and maybe when we get all packed up he'll change his mind.