hands. What could have become of Georgiana's note? A hand might have
filched it; unlikely. A gust of wind have whisked it out; impossible.
I debated and rejected every hypothesis to the last one. Acting upon
this, I walked straight to the saddle-house, and in a dark corner
peered at the nest of the wrens. A speck of white paper was visible
among the sticks and shavings. I tore the nest out and shook it to
pieces. How those wrens did rage! The note was so torn and mudded
that I could not read it. But suppose a jay had carried it to the high
crotch of some locust! I ran joyfully back to the window.

"I've found it, Georgiana!" I called out.

She appeared, looking relieved, but not exactly forgiving.

"Where!"

My tongue froze to the roof of my mouth.

"Where did you find it?" she repeated, imperiously.

"What do you want to know for?" I said, savagely.

"Let me see it!" she demanded.

My clasp on it suddenly tightened.

"Let me see it!" she repeated, with genuine fire.

"What do you want to see it for?" I said.