They ran along the path together, the sunbeams making Jack-o-lanterns at their feet. Light branches swayed in the wind, and through the dancing leaves the sunlight sifted, making Lena's hair a brighter brown, and Polly's flaxen ringlets like pale gold.
They reached the little bridge, and paused to watch the clear, rippling brook, as it ran beneath it, and out through the tiny grove.
Humming a melody all its own, it made its zigzag way between birches, and alders, maples, and elderblow, carrying on its shining surface stray leaves, and water spiders that struggled to see which first should reach the sunlit meadow land beyond.
"Now, read the letter," said Lena, "and does she say when she's coming here?"
"Oh, you hark, while I read," said Polly, taking from its envelope, the letter that she had, already, read three times.
Lena listened with delight. It would be an event to have little Rose Atherton come to Avondale! She told of Uncle John's frequent visits, and of long drives enjoyed with him.
"And here's something that made me laugh," said Polly.
"I told you about Evangeline Longfellow Jenks," she continued, "and she's written some more verses, and Rose copied this one. Just listen while I read it."
Polly took a slip of paper from the envelope, and read this absurd verse that was written upon it:
[Illustration with caption: "Lena listened with delight.">[