“And see what I have to show you,” said Janet, drawing from the envelope the letter and something with it that fell on the floor of the swing, almost going through its slats.
“Oh, a new picture of Betty!” exclaimed Sue, reaching down carefully to pick up the unmounted photograph, a small one. “Isn’t that cute? And it’s good of Betty, too. Why, it doesn’t look like a snap-shot.” Sue turned it over to examine it.
“It isn’t. It was taken at some shop. Betty tells about it in the letter.”
“That’s Betty’s smile, and what a good light on her hair. Betty’s hair is a real gold, just like what you read about in books. I always wished I had hair like Betty’s. And I never saw such dark blue eyes as Betty has. They look straight at you here. I think Betty is a real pretty girl, don’t you?”
“Yes, but she’s no doll. And I think Betty’s ‘gold’ on the inside, too. That letter didn’t sound as if she’d forgotten us this soon. Read it.” Janet held out the thick packet of folded sheets.
“Oh, you read it to me. It will sound twice as well in your ‘mellifluous’ tones. Kate had to put ‘mellifluous’ in a sentence at school yesterday.”
Janet laughed. “I may leave out the messages to me, then, but I’ll read it if you want me to. Thank fortune, Betty writes so a body can read it. And she says that we simply must come down to see her at the Thanksgiving vacation. I can’t wait to read you that. Her mother says so, too, she wrote. Do you suppose we could? I haven’t said anything to Mother yet.”
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful? But–clothes and everything–I’m afraid not.”
“We have as good things as Betty has.”
“I haven’t anything that would do to travel in, though, and I’m afraid I can’t have a new winter coat. My old one’s a sight!”