"I have a plan for letting chance decide which of the stories the first one shall be.

They shall be all numbered as they are done; corresponding numbers shall be written inside folded pieces of card and well mixed together; you shall pick out any one card you like; you shall declare the number written within; and, good or bad, the story that answers to that number shall be the story that is read.
Is that fair ?" "Fair!" she exclaimed; "it's better than fair; it makes _me_ of some importance; and I must be more or less than woman not to appreciate that." "Then you consent to wait patiently for the next five days ?" "As patiently as I can." "And you engage to decide nothing about writing to your aunt until you have heard the first story ?" "I do," she said, returning to the writing-table.

"Behold the proof of it." She raised her hand with theatrical solemnity, and closed the paper-case with an impressive bang.
I leaned back in my chair with my mind at ease for the first time since the receipt of my son's letter.
"Only let George return by the first of November," I thought to myself, "and all the aunts in Christendom shall not prevent Jessie Yelverton from being here to meet him." THE TEN DAYS.
THE FIRST DAY.
SHOWERY and unsettled.

In spite of the weather, Jessie put on my Mackintosh cloak and rode off over the hills to one of Owen's outlying farms.

She was already too impatient to wait quietly for the evening's reading in the house, or to enjoy any amusement less exhilarating than a gallop in the open air.
I was, on my side, as anxious and as uneasy as our guest.