“Jeanette will, too,” said Betty; “she looks older than she is, anyhow. What’ll you wear, Jean?”
“I’ll wear one of Mother’s gowns,” said Jeanette, smiling. “She’s so small and slender, her things just about fit me. Black, I think, with white collar and cuffs.”
“I’ll wear a long cloak,” said Betty, “and a thick, dark veil, so Grandpa can scarcely see my face at all.”
“And glasses,” said Jack. “I’ll get you a pair of dark spectacles, so he won’t see your eyes at all. Now let’s write the letter.”
Then, all suggesting, but Jack doing most of it, the following letter was composed, and was copied by Jeanette:
Mr. William Irving,
Dear Sir: Although I have been in more fortunate circumstances, I am now quite poor. I desire a position as secretary, and I apply to you, because my great-uncle Roger Arundel used to be in your class at college, and I have often heard him speak of your kind heart and generous disposition. I will call at your office, to see you about the matter, this afternoon at three o’clock. Please let me speak to you, even if you cannot give me a position.
Yours truly, Frances Arundel.
“Was there a Roger Arundel in Grandpa’s class?” asked Betty, looking admiringly at the letter.
“I don’t know of any,” said Jack; “I made up the name.”
“Then of course there wasn’t,” said Betty. “Why didn’t you choose a name from his class list?”
“Oh, I didn’t quite like to do that. It didn’t seem right. But it won’t matter. You girls will have to manage the Roger Arundel item. Now, are you sure you understand your parts? Come on, let’s rehearse. I’ll be Grandpa.”