When she came to the letters, she hesitated.
"I guess she didn't want them," she said.

"I'll just keep them awhile and if she doesn't ask about them, the next time she comes, I'll burn them.

Robert must go after her every Friday evening, and we'll keep her until Monday, and do all we can to cheer her; and this very day he must find out all there is to know about that George Holt.

That IS the finest letter I ever read; she does kind of stand up for him; and in the reaction, impulsive as she is and self-confident--of course she wouldn't, but you never can tell what kind of fool a girl will make of herself, in some cases." Kate walked swiftly, finished two of the errands she set out to do, then her feet carried her three miles from Hartley on the Walden road, before she knew where she was, so she proceeded to the village.
Mrs.Holt was not at home, but the house was standing open.

Kate found her room cleaned, shining, and filled with flowers.