“I hope it isn’t diphtheria,” said Jessie sympathetically, “though it is nice to have you home; it does seem so quiet without you. I have a thousand things to tell you.”
“Fire away,” said Max.
“Well, I don’t go to the Hill School any more, but I have lessons with Adele—she lives in the yellow house, you know. I know some French. Bon jour, monsieur. Comme portez vous?”
“Pshaw!” interrupted Walter. “I can beat that with Latin.”
“Let’s hear you,” said Jessie.
“Stop your fooling,” put in Max. “Don’t be such a blower, Walter. I know just about how much Latin you know. Never mind him, Jess, go on.”
“I have begun music, too,” Jessie turned to her elder brother, “and some day I shall have a piano when mother can save enough butter and eggs to get me one.”
“That will be fine,” said Max encouragingly.
“Then you don’t see old Ezra any more,” said Walter, “and can’t tell us anything about the trains and the engines.”
“No.” Jessie shook her head. “I haven’t been to see him. He had rheumatism, and I fell on the track one day; that’s why I stopped going to school. There is a cross man in Ezra’s place and I don’t like him.”