I want to go into the packing-room for a minute." He then tossed Henry the order, as if it was nothing more than an order.
But it was a great deal more than that to Henry.

It was Grace Carden's handwriting, the first specimen he had ever seen.
He took the paper in his hand, and a slight perfume came from it that went to his heart.

He devoured the delicately formed letters, and they went to his heart too: he thrilled all over.

And the words were as like her as the perfume.

She gave the order, and the addresses of her friends, with a pretty little attempt at the businesslike; but, this done, she burst out, "and we all entreat you to be good to poor Mr.
Little, and protect him against the wicked, cruel, abominable Unions." These sweet words made his heart beat violently, and brought the tears of tenderness into his eyes.