“I remain,
“Ever your loving daughter,
“Phyl.”
[190]
]“Then what have you been writing if it isn’t a letter?” the mother said. “I hope a copy, Dolly; you and Phyl are the most shocking little writers I have ever seen.”
“No; it isn’t a copy,” said Dolly. Her face grew redder than ever, and at last she produced from her pocket a scrap of paper whereon was writing in red ink.
Mrs. Conway took it a little hurriedly, for the pinafores were badly needed, and read the following first poem of her daughter:—
“BY THE SEA.
“Down in a mossy dell
Near to a little well
A busy little wren