"I intend to write them, too," remarked Sarah.
"Let's all write them!" exclaimed Blue Bonnet.
"That's the right spirit," said Señora with an approving nod. "A 'round-robin' letter will cheer the poor girls wonderfully."
"You hear the motion, are all in favor?" asked Alec.
"Will you write a 'robin,' too?" bargained Kitty, who loved to torment the youth.
"Sure!" he agreed at once, thus taking the wind out of her sails.
"Aye, aye, then!" they all exclaimed, and the motion was declared carried.
There was a scattering for paper and ink, after which every one settled down for an hour's scribbling, some using the broad rail of the veranda as a table, others repairing to desks in the house. Blue Bonnet doubled up jack-knife fashion on one of the front steps, using her knees for a pad; while Sarah, complaining that she could not think with so many people about her, took herself off to the window-seat in the nursery.
"The idea of wanting to think!" exclaimed Kitty. "I never stop to think when I write letters."
"You don't need to tell that to any one who has ever heard from you," remarked Blue Bonnet. "The one letter I had from you in New York took me an hour to puzzle out,—it began in the middle and ended at the top of the first page, and there were six 'ands' and four 'ifs' in one sentence."