She felt breathless. Her knees trembled. Somehow, Nan just KNEW that the letter from her mother's cousin must be of enormous importance. She set her broom in the corner and closed the door. It was fated that she should do no more sweeping that day.
Chapter V. GREAT EXPECTATIONS
Mr. Sherwood, in overalls and an old cap, had been sifting cinders out behind the shed. They had to be careful of fuel as well as of most other things. Momsey would not open the long envelope until he had been called and had come in. Nan still wore the bright colored bandana wound about her head, turban-wise, for a dust cap. Papa Sherwood beat the ashes from his hands as he stood before the glowing kitchen range.
“What is it?” he asked calmly. “A notice of a new tax assessment? Or a cure-all advertisement of Somebody's Pills?”
“It's from Cousin Adair,” said Momsey, a little breathlessly. “And it's been lying at our door all the time.”
“All what time?” asked Mr. Sherwood curiously.
“All the time we have been so disappointed in our inquiries elsewhere,” said Momsey soberly.
“Oh!” responded her husband doubtfully, and said no more.
“It makes my knees shake,” confessed Nan. “Do open it, Momsey!”