'No; I will—I will,' exclaimed both the little girls at once. Elizabeth, though the youngest, generally contrived to be forwardest; and seizing upon the letter, as the gardener held it between his finger and thumb, she scampered away, followed by Harriet, and they both arrived almost breathless in the drawing-room.
'The coaches are both past, papa,' said Harriet, 'without John and Frederick'; and as soon as the information had been given, she burst into tears.
'But here is a letter, which will tell about it, I dare say, papa,' added Elizabeth. 'To John Mortimer, Esq. Beech Grove,' she continued, reading the direction, as she presented the letter. 'It is John's writing, papa.'
Mrs. Mortimer looked uneasy; and Mr. Mortimer broke the seal of the letter with some little alarm.
'It is all well,' said the kind father, almost directly; 'nothing to apprehend, my love,' added he, as he handed the letter across to his wife.
The letter was as follows:—
My Dear Papa,
No room for us in either of the coaches—inside or out. Mr. Brown is going to send us in a post chaise, with two other boys.
Your affectionate and dutiful Son,
JOHN MORTIMER.