It arrived after the girls were already at work, so that since breakfast they had been looking forward to the letters, wondering about them....
Ah, these letters! Most people realize by this time how much they have always meant to the boys at the Front. They meant as much and more to the war-working girls! You people who "can't be bothered to write much," you correspondents who "forget"—I wish you could have seen that group of uniformed lasses with the green Forestry ribbons round their hats, clustering about the forewoman who held the packet. I wish you could have heard the eager tone of their "Any for me?"
"Two for you, Curley—one from France. Oh! girls, look at the snapshots of me sister's nippers. 'To Auntie Vic, with love from Stan'—all right, ain't it?" cried Vic.
"Only these four for me?" exclaimed the red-haired Welsh timber girl.
"And none for me! Isn't it a cruel shame?" lamented Lil. "Here, Aggie, do let me have a read of yours——"
"I say, this isn't for me. It got slipped in among mine. 'Miss Weare'—who's she when she's at home? Oh! The little new one. Here, Mop——"
Elizabeth took the letter.
I was reading a kind letter from Agatha, my step-mother, who ended with, "Still I hope you will not find that this new venture of yours is a mistake after all," when there was a little sudden laugh and a quick exclamation from my chum at my elbow.
"Joan, I say, Joan!"
"Yes? Who've you heard from?"