“Well, we’re here because we’re here,” Babs sang out. “Now the next thing is, what shall we do to while away the tedium (as the story books say), of the next two weeks?”
“With all of the teachers gone, like mice of fiction, we ought to do very much as we wish.” Betsy swung herself up on the rail of the porch.
“I’m so glad Miss Torrence’s mother was strong enough to ride in that comfortable closed car of her brother’s to visit his nice home in Boston. She has three little grandchildren there and she has been so eager to see them.” Virginia had seated herself on the top step of the wide front porch, and, leaning back, she breathed deeply of the warm fragrance-laden air.
“What a glorious day it is!” she said, smiling up at Margaret who stood at her side. “Do see our wonderful apple orchard. Isn’t it just like a floating cloud of blossoms? I don’t wonder that birds like to build their nests in those great old branches, Hark! Hear one of them singing as though he would burst his throat and just for the joy of living.”
“Oh, good! Here comes the postman.” Sally who had been sitting on the step lower than her idol, looked up glowingly.
A two-wheeled cart was turning in between the high gates and a thin, wiry horse was drawing the queer little equipage up the wide circling drive, in what the girls thought a most provoking leisurely manner.
The pleasant-faced postman beamed out from under his leather visor. “What, ho!” he called, when the horse had stopped under the portico. “Be you all that’s left out of the hurly-burly crowd of you?”
The girls trooped down the steps and surrounded the vehicle. Babs climbed up on the small step to peer into the opened bag, while Betsy attempted to leap up on the back board from the ground.
“Yes, we’re all that’s left and we need twice as many letters to console us,” she remarked, when the feat had been accomplished.
“Wall, it does seem like thar’s an extra big batch this here mornin’. Where’s that Miss King, teacher, who allays takes the mail pouch. I’ve orders, you know, to just give it to her or her representative. That’s what Mis’ Martin said, slow-like and plain as anything. Now what I’m wantin’ to know, is any of you gals that representative?”