“It’s a pretty big proposition—sending her East,” Mr. Ashe said. “Oh, she’ll pick up a lot of tomfool notions, most likely,” Uncle Joe admitted, “and a whole heap of others that’ll come in mighty handy one of these days. You just send her ’long back to those folks of her mother’s and quit worrying.”
That night Mr. Ashe wrote a letter to Blue Bonnet’s grandmother. He said nothing to Blue Bonnet herself about it, however. Possibly Mrs. Clyde would not care to assume the charge of her granddaughter. In any case, it would be well to have the matter settled before mentioning it.
Then one evening, not a fortnight later, Uncle Joe, coming home from the little post-office town, twenty miles away, tossed him several letters.
“Postmarked Woodford,” the older man said. “Looks like sentence was about to be pronounced.”
Five minutes more and Mr. Ashe knew how hard he had been hoping against hope these last two weeks.
“Well?” Uncle Joe asked; and the other looked up to find him still sitting motionless in his saddle.
“They want her to come as soon as possible, so that she may be ready to start school at the beginning of the fall term.”
“Pretty good school back there?”
“Said to be—it’s the one her mother went to.”
“I reckon they’re tickled to death to have her come?”