The curtains parted in an up-stairs window and a smiling face looked down upon them.
“I know who wrote the story, Kit,” called Mrs. Hartwell-Jones. “Can you guess?” she asked merrily.
Letty looked up with her face all aglow, enlightened by Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s expression.
“Oh, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones,” she exclaimed, “you don’t mean to say that you wrote it!”
“Yes,” laughed the lady gayly. “I wrote it ever so many years ago. How wonderfully you remembered it, my dear.”
“I loved it,” replied Letty simply. “But I should never have believed it then if any one had told me that some day I should know the writer,” and she sighed happily.
“I’ll write another one some time—just for you and Janey,” promised Mrs. Hartwell-Jones. “And now wouldn’t you children like to drive Punch and Judy into the village to carry some of my things to Mr. Parsons’ house?”
The twins jumped up with a whoop. They were always delighted to go for a drive in the pony carriage.
[CHAPTER XI—CHRISTOPHER GOES FOR THE MAIL]
When Mrs. Hartwell-Jones and Letty drove away from Sunnycrest in the pony carriage, amid a general waving of pocket handkerchiefs and shouts of farewell, everybody looked at everybody else rather blankly, as if something had happened and nobody was quite sure just what it was.