“Oh, dear!” cried Mary, when she had read the last word aloud to her big-eyed audience. “Why does it stop? Now we shall never know how the Princess got out of the Giant’s castle!”
Those papers lasted the little Prouts for a whole week. And they had not begun to tire of them when—another set of magazines came! Captain Prout happened to go to the village that day, and Tim Parks came running out to him from the post-office.
“More mail for the Misses and the Masters Prout, Cap’n!” he called. “I guess your children are goin’ to have ’em come reg’lar. Ain’t it wonderful who sends ’em?”
What a shriek of joy went up from the little Prouts when they saw what Father brought them that night! “Now we shall know about the Princess!” cried Mary, and they could hardly wait for supper to be over before they continued the wonderful tale. This part was to be continued also; but there was no such wail of anguish when the last word was read.
“Oh, I’s sorry it’s done,” sighed little Polly; “but I guess the rest will come next week. Don’t you?”
And somehow, even Tommy was hopeful this time. “Yes, I guess He hasn’t forgotten us, quite,” he confessed to Mary before they went to bed.
If only Kenneth and Rose could have seen what joy their story papers gave to the little Prouts! Every week through all that bitter winter, in sun or in shine, through snow and sleet, as regularly as a Saturday came, one of the Prouts tramped four miles to the village for the precious magazines. And always the other little Prouts were waiting breathlessly for him to return, fearful lest this time the papers might not have come. They were always looking out of the window, a row of little heads, one above another.
WHAT A SHRIEK OF JOY WENT UP
“Did it come?” they would cry, making signs of eager question as soon as the messenger appeared in sight, and he would shout and wave the two wrappers over his head, whereat all the children would begin to jump up and down with joy.