The minister came to see me the other day,--Mr.Stoker his name is.

I was all alone, and it frightened me, for he looks, oh, so solemn on Sundays! But he called me "My dear," and did n't say anything horrid, you know, about my being such a dreadful, dreadful sinner, as I have heard of his saying to some people,--but he looked very kindly at me, and took my hand, and laid his hand on my shoulder like a brother, and hoped I would come and see him in his study.

I suppose I must go, but I don't want to.

I don't seem to like him exactly.
I hope you love me as well as ever you did.

I can't help feeling sometimes as if you was growing away from me,--you know what I mean,--getting to be too great a person for such a small person as I am.
I know I can't always understand you when you talk about art, and that you know a great deal too much for such a simple girl as I am.