“Let us have the good news first,” replied Don, putting the letter behind his chair, as his brother reached out his hand to take it. “This will keep.”
“So will the other; but since you are so determined, I suppose I shall have to tell you. When our tutor goes away next week we shall have two whole months to ourselves, and instead of spending all the time at the shooting-box, I propose that some fine morning we put the ponies to the spring wagon, take our tent, one of our canoes and everything else we need for camping out, and spend a week or so on Coldwater.”
“Among the deer and bears!” exclaimed Don. “That would be just the idea, if we could only carry it out.”
“And why can’t we carry it out?”
“Because we are not going to have those two months all to ourselves; and besides, one of the two fellows who is about to intrude his most unwelcome presence upon us, is not such a boy as we should like to have in our camp.”
“What do you mean?” asked Bert.
“I can best answer that question by reading a portion of this letter,” replied Don. “It came more than a week ago. Father and mother have consulted about it, and have finally consented, most reluctantly, to accept the proposition it contains. I am afraid it was a bad day for us when they did so. Our fun is all knocked in the head. In the first place the letter is from Uncle Bob, and relates to our cousins, Clarence and Marshall Gordon.”
“Are they coming here?” asked Bert, his face brightening with joyous anticipation.
Don looked sharply at his brother for a minute or two before he spoke. “Yes, they’re coming,” said he. “I don’t know what you may think about it, but I am sorry; and so are father and mother.”
“Then why do they let them come?”