"That certainly would be the most agreeable way, and to please you, Miss Amy Redmond, I will follow your advice. Besides, I have something very exciting to tell you and Priscilla, and I really cannot wait longer than this afternoon."
"Hurry, young ladies, hurry, hurry!"
It was Lucian calling to them. He had turned to meet them.
"What kept you so long, Martine? What have you been doing?"
"Nothing, only talking."
"Oh, that accounts for it. When once Martine begins to talk in earnest, she takes no heed of time."
Martine replied lightly to her brother's badinage, and the three reached the house in great spirits. With Amy's caution before her Martine avoided collision with Priscilla during the dinner hour. After dinner, while they were all sitting together in the little arbor,—Mrs. Redmond as well as the girls,—Martine drew a letter from her pocket.
"Listen," she cried; "I have something to read you—no, I can tell it better in my own words, although it is nearly all in papa's letter. So listen, Amy; it's for you,—and it's for you, Priscilla, as well as for me."
"And for me, too?" asked Lucian, trying to throw great expression into his voice.
"No, no, of course not. Mrs. Redmond knows, and she thinks it fine, so listen. In the first place, papa feels much obliged to every one for keeping me contented. You know I tried to make a fuss when they wouldn't take me to Europe, and he says that it's a splendid thing for me to get so interested in history. This is what he says:—