DEAR MR. BAYARD,--I have been thinking since I saw you. I have
health, and a summer. What can I do to help your work? I haven’t
a particle of experience, and not much enthusiasm. But I am ready
to try, if you are willing to try me. I don’t think I’m adapted
to drunkards. I don’t know which of us would be more scared. He
would probably run for the nearest grogshop to get rid of me.
Aren’t there some old ladies who bother you to death, whom you
could turn over to me?
Yours sincerely,
HELEN CARRUTH.
This characteristic note, the first that he had ever received from
her, reached Bayard by mail, a few days after his call at the
cottage of the Flying Jib.