Here the reading was interrupted by a gasp that was almost a sob from Jessica; straight English had not been necessary to translate the fire of the woodsman’s arm which forced the “devil quicksands” to relax their sucking grip upon her body.
“He sent me the letter, asking me to fix it up with lots of paint—my expression, of course—excuse slang!...”
“That means all the nice speeches you can think of!” interjected Penelope explanatorily.
“So here goes; I enclose ’dese line’ from him and add my comments—and sundries!
“I have been plugging away for dear life at Tech and working through the Christmas holidays. It means a stiff grind for the next four years if I’m to take my B.C.E. degree—Bachelor of Civil Engineering—at the end of that time.
“Have you decided yet in what School of Design you’re going to learn how to paint Saints’ heads on glass? More power to the legacy!
“Gracious! when I think of how that ripping sou’westerly squall which swept you in the dory on to the Neck made the sand-hill ‘cough up’ that old sun-dollar and of all that it brought you, I want to yell and yell, like a madman. I’ll wager that Kenjo does, too! And didn’t the Astronomer play up at the party when he thought you were going to faint or cry? Good for Tenderfoot Tommy!
“Thank you for the help which you Camp Fire Girls are giving us by selling tickets for our big Boy Scout Rally which takes place this month!
“Hoping to see you soon,
“Your friend,