“Oct. 19th. I did not finish my letter the day it as begun, dear Katy, and the next morning it proved that I was not so strong as I fancied, and I had to go to bed again. I am still there, and, as you see, writing with a pencil; but do not be worried about me, for the doctor says I am mending, and soon I hope to be up and in my chair. The red leaves are gone, but the roses are lovely as ever, for little Helen keeps bringing me fresh ones. She has just been in to read me her composition. The subject was ‘Stars,’ and you can’t think how much she found to say about them, She is a bright little creature, and it is a great pleasure to teach her. I am hardly ever so sick that she cannot come for her lessons, and she gets on fast. We have made an arrangement that when she knows more than I do she is to give me lessons, and I am not sure that the time is so very far off.
“I must tell you about my Ben. He is a new canary which was given me in the summer, and lately he has grown so delightfully tame that I feel as if it were not a bird at all, but a fairy prince come to live with me and amuse me. The cage door is left open always now, and he flies in and out as he likes. He is a restless, inquisitive fellow, and visits any part of the room, trying each fresh thing with his bill to see if it is good to eat, and then perching on it to see if it good to sit upon. He mistakes his own reflection in the looking- glass for another canary, and sits on the pin-cushion twittering and making love to himself for half an hour at a time. To watch him is one of my greatest amusements, especially just now when I am in bed so much. Sometimes he hides and keeps so still that I have not the least idea where he is. but the moment I call, ‘Ben, Ben,’ and hold out my finger, wings begin to rustle, and out he flies and perches on my finger. He isn’t the least bit in the world afraid, but sits on my head or shoulder, eats out of my mouth, and kisses me with his beak. He is on the pillow at this moment making runs at my pencil, of which he is mortally jealous. It is just so with my combs and brushes if I attempt to do my hair; he cannot bear to have me do any thing but play with him. I do wish I could show him to you and Clover.
“Little Helen, my other pet, has just come in with a sponge cake which she frosted herself. She sends her love, and says when you come to me next summer she will frost you each one just like it. Good-by, my Katy. I had nothing to write about and have written it, but I never like to keep silent too long, or let you feel as if you were forgotten by your loving cousin, Helen.”
“P.S. Be sure to wear plenty of warm wraps for your winter walks. And, Katy, dear, you must eat meat every day. Mrs. Nipson will probably give up her favorite pudding now that the cold weather has begun; but, if not, write to papa.”
“Isn’t that letter Cousin Helen all over?” said Katy, “So little about her illness, and so bright and merry, and yet she has really been sick. Papa says ‘a sharp attack.’ Isn’t she the dearest person in the world, next to papa I mean?”
“Yes, indeed. There’s nobody like her. I do hope we can go to see her next summer. Now it’s my turn. I can’t think who this letter is from. Oh, Clarence! Katy, I can’t let you see this. I promised I wouldn’t show his letters to anybody, not even you!”
“Oh, very well. But you’ve got another. Dorry, isn’t it? Read that first, and I’ll go away and leave you in peace.”
So Clover read:—
“Dear Clover,—Elsie says she is going to write you to-day; but I won’t stop because next Saturday I’m going out fishing with the Slacks. There are a great many trout now in Blue Brook. Eugene caught six the other day,—no, five, one was a minnow. Papa has given me a splendid rod, it lets out as tall as a house. I hope I shall catch with it. Alexander says the trout will admire it so much that they can’t help biting; but he was only funning. Elsie and I play chess most every night. She plays a real good game for a girl. Sometimes pa helps, and then she beats. Miss Finch is well. She don’t keep house quite like Katy did, and I don’t like her so well as I do you, but she’s pretty nice. The other day we had a nutting picnic, and she gave me and Phil a loaf of Election cake and six quince turnovers to carry. The boys gave three cheers for her when they saw them. Did Elsie tell you that I have invented a new machine? It is called ‘The Intellectual Peach Parer.’ There is a place to hold a book while you pare the peaches. It is very convenient. I don’t think of any thing else to tell you. Cecy has got home, and is going to have a party next week. She’s grown up now, she says, and she wears her hair quite different. It’s a great deal thicker than it used to be. Elsie says it’s because there are rats in it; but I don’t believe her. Elsie has got a new friend. Her name is Helen Gibbs. She’s quite pretty. “Your affectionate brother, Dorry.”
P.S.—John wants to put in a note.”
John’s note was written in a round hand, as easy to read as print.
“Dear Clover,—I am well, and hope you are the same. I wish you would write me a letter of my own. I go to school with Elsie now. We write compossizions. They are hard to write. We don’t go up into the loft half so much as we used to when you ware at home. Mrs. Worrett came to dinner last week. She says she ways two hundred and atey pounds. I should think it would be dredful to way that. I only way 76. My head comes up to the mark on the door where you ware mesured when you ware twelve. Isn’t that tal? Good-bye. I send a kiss to Katy. Your loving “John.”
After they had finished this note, Katy went away, leaving Clover to open Clarence’s letter by herself. It was not so well written or spelt as Dorry’s by any means.
“Dear Clover,—Don’t forget what you promised. I mene about not showing this. And don’t tell Lilly I rote. If you do, she’ll be as mad as hops. I haven’t been doing much since you went away. School begun yesterday, and I am glad; for it’s awfully dull now that you girls have gone. Mother says Guest has got flees on him, so she won’t let him come into the house any more. I stay out in the barn with him insted. He is well, and sends you a wag of his tail. Jim and me are making him a colar. It is black, with G.P. on it, for Guest Page, you know. A lot of the boys had a camping out last week. I went. It was real jolly; but ma wouldn’t let me stay all night, so I lost the best part. They roasted scullpins for supper, and had a bon-fire. The camp was on Harstnet Hill. Next time you come I’ll take you out there. Pa has gone to Mane on bizness. He said I must take care of the house, so I’ve borrowed Jim’s gun, and if any robers come I mean to shoot them. I always go to sleep with a broom agenst the door, so as to wake up when they open it. This morning I thought they had come, for the broom was gone, and the gun too; but it was only Briget. She opened the door, and it fell down; but I didn’t wake up, so she took it away, and put the gun in the closset. I was mad, I can tell you.
“This is only a short letter, but I hope you will answer it soon.
Give my love to Katy, and tell Dorry that if he likes I’ll send him
my compas for his machenery, because I’ve got two.
“Your affectionate Cousin,
“Clarence Page.”
This was the last of the budget. As Clover folded it up, she was dismayed by the tinkle of the tea-bell.
“Oh, dear!” she cried, “there’s tea, and I have not finished my letter to Elsie. Where has the afternoon gone! How splendid it has been! I wish I could have four letters every day as long as I live.”
Chapter XI.
Christmas Boxes
October was a delightful month, clear and sparkling;