“I don’t intend to try you; but listen to this letter I have just received, and see if you can make anything out of it.”
“Dear old Friend and College Mate:
I learned to-day that you and yours were in the city; but, unluckily for me, had gone this afternoon to the old Brown Farm. The last train for Bristol is almost due, so I write hurriedly, to ask you with your good Aunt, nurses, and little folk, to come to us to-morrow afternoon, by the boat, to spend the Fourth. I have invited a few gentlemen to pass the day on my yacht, but Gertrude will be at home as care-taker, and the bairns will have a merry time.”
“Now, children, wait till we hear what Aunt Emma says.”
“I think, John, it will be a delightful excursion for you all, and am only sorry I cannot join your merry party, but my old friend, Mary Graham, always passes that day with me, and I do not like to disappoint her.”
“Miss Mary Graham! Oh, Auntie, I remember her nerves, and it will be a great mercy to her, if I remove my noisy collection from the house before she comes, so I will telegraph ‘yes,’ at once. Now, children, you can run back to your fire-flies.”
“Oh, papa,” said Daisy, “I can only stand still and pinch myself, to see if it is truly myself. It seems to me as if everything was getting to be just like fairy-land. Such loads of pleasure coming all at once!”
“And think of it, Daisy, duck, that’s the very same jolly old place Mamma has told us about so many, many times, rainy nights, around the Library fire, where they have no end of pets, and water running close to the house, and clam-bakes and everything.”
“And Alice, and Kit, and May, and Gracie, and good Jem that’s such a hand at telling funny stories! Oh, Artie, man, how ever shall we live till to-morrow? I feel as if I should fly to pieces this instant.”
“I will tell you, Daisy, daughter, the best way to prepare for to-morrow’s pleasure is to run off your excitement now, so take another fire-fly chase and then to bed for a good sleep.”