“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.