“He’s just like a boy,” suggested David.
So M’ri, silenced, read on: “I thank you for your beyewtifull present which I cannot have.”
“Oh, Janey,” expostulated M’ri, laughing; “that doesn’t sound very gracious.”
“Well, you said I couldn’t have them till I was grown up.”
“I was wrong,” admitted M’ri. “I didn’t realize it then. We have to see a thing written sometimes to know how it sounds.”
“May I wear them?” asked Janey exultingly. “May I put them on now?”
“Yes,” consented M’ri.
Janey flew upstairs and came back wearing the adored turquoises, which made her eyes most beautifully blue.
“Now I can write,” she affirmed, taking up 75 her pencil with the impetus of an incentive. Under the inspiration of the beads around her neck, she wrote:
“Dear Joe: