The letters, written so soon after their departure, contained little news. Yet Irma found hers particularly cheering, because they brought her so closely in touch with the family at home.
"Napoleon," her mother wrote, "was very low spirited the day you left home, but with the fickleness of his kind, he now wags his tail hopefully as if he expected you to-morrow. Mahala's grief is mitigated by her expectation of post cards from strange places, and Tessie is wondering about presents. The boys, I am sorry to say, do not let your absence weigh upon them. Baseball is now the one important thing."
Then followed some directions about taking care of herself, and making the most of her opportunities.
A short letter from Lucy gave her school news, but Irma sighed, because there was no word from Gertrude.
That evening, as Irma sat on the balcony after dinner, Marion came near her.
"You were very good to go with Uncle Jim for our letters. It makes home seem so much nearer, to know that letters can reach me."
"Yes," said Marion, "I suppose so."
"Was there good news in yours, too?" continued Irma, after a moment of silence.
Without answering, Marion walked forward to the edge of the balcony.