The next morning the young man took his leave, and Elsie's last
words were:
"Mr. Stanhope, remember your promise."
And he did remember more than that, for this brief visit had
enshrined a sweet, girlish face within his heart of hearts, and he
no longer felt lonely and orphaned. He and George became the
closest friends, and messages from the New England home came to
him with increasing frequency, which he returned with prodigal
interest. It also transpired that he occasionally wrote for the
papers, and Elsie insisted that these should be sent to her; while
he of course wrote much better with the certainty that she would
be his critic. Thus, though separated, they daily became better
acquainted, and during the year George found it not very difficult
to induce his friend to make several visits.
But it was with joy that seemed almost too rich for earthly
experience that he found himself walking up the village street
with George the ensuing Thanksgiving Eve. Elsie was at the door;
and he pretended to be disconsolate that his reception was not the
same as on the previous year.
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