"Oh, I shall hate that," she rejoined with a shrug.
"But you know you often blurt out things that you really don't mean, and that get you into trouble."
"Um—yes," she admitted with a pout, "and what else?"
"Never be afraid to speak the truth."
"I'm not—not a little bit," she proclaimed.
"Mind you stick to that—it's more than most of your elders can say. You will write to me every week, and let me know how you get on?"
"Yes; and you will answer my letters—they will be the only ones I shall get."
"You may be sure I shall write, and the dogs, too; they shall send you their photographs."
"Oh, Philip," she exclaimed, "how I wish you were coming home before two long years! I shall mark off the weeks till I see you, beginning to-morrow; and I'll save up every single one of my secrets to tell you."
"I don't think they will give you much trouble."