But it is ten o'clock, and father suggests that, if I wish to get to the post-office before the mail closes, I had "better make tracks." So I must stop. Love to all.
Yours affectionately, A. Winters.
P.S.—Please tell Ben and Harry that I will answer their letters immediately. A.W.
By this time the rest of the smugglers had arrived, and, as soon as Frank had run his eye over the letter, and began to fold it up, George inquired,
"Well, what does he say? Did he receive Harry's letter?"
"Yes, and also one from Ben. He says he will answer them at once."
After a few moments' conversation, the boys separated, and started for home, expressing themselves highly delighted at Frank's way of spending the Fourth.
The day on which Mrs. Sherman and her son were expected at length arrived. As a fine breeze was blowing, Frank and his sister—accompanied, of course, by Brave—stepped into the Speedwell, and started to enjoy a sail on the river.
It was now the summer vacation, and the boys were determined to have plenty of recreation after their long siege of study; and, when Frank reached the mouth of the creek, he found the river dotted with white sails as far as he could see. Several of the boats had started on fishing excursions, but the majority of them were sailing idly about, as if nothing particular had been determined on.
Frank turned the Speedwell's head down the river, and soon joined the little fleet. He had hoisted every stitch of canvas his boat could carry, and she flew along, passing several of the swiftest vessels, and finally encountered the Alert. The race was short, for the Speedwell easily passed her, and George and Harry were compelled to acknowledge that, to use their own expression, "the Alert was nowhere."