“Never mind, dear. Boys seem to like to get off by themselves now and then, don’t they, dear? We’ll have a little dove party. But I have answered a question of Kit’s, however, which now he will miss hearing,” she added, glancing at a pile of closely written pages on her writing desk.
“Oh!” exclaimed Jane, looking from Mrs. Hartwell-Jones to Letty, her cheeks growing crimson. “You’ve written the story you promised—just for us!”
“Yes,” laughed Mrs. Hartwell-Jones, “just for you. I got my idea from Letty’s song and Christopher’s questions about it. Shall I read it now, while we are waiting until it is time for the party?”
“Oh, yes, please! And I can be putting Sally to bed.”
Letty, who had been in a flutter of excitement all day as she watched those pages of story growing, flew over to the table for the manuscript, and bustled about, making Mrs. Hartwell-Jones more comfortable and arranging the light.
“Oh, perhaps Anna might like to hear the story, too! Might she come?” she asked impulsively.
Mrs. Hartwell-Jones said yes, graciously, feeling secretly proud of Letty’s thoughtfulness.
“Now,” she said, when shy little Anna Parsons had been brought up-stairs and everything was ready, “we must have Letty’s song first, as a sort of introduction.”
So Letty sang the “Winter Lullaby” again, sweetly, simply, without any thought of herself or how she was doing it, but evidently enjoying the soft, plaintive melody. When she had finished Mrs. Hartwell-Jones took up her paper and read:
“The Tulip’s Dream