“Why Rusty Miller,” the boy exclaimed, “ain’t writing letters anything,—with ink, too! It takes the whole evening, even if you begin the minute the table cloth’s off.”
“Yes indeed, Frank, it’s a lot, and it’s a great comfort to get them,” Rusty owned, “but answer me quick so that Anna can change her dress before dinner. And I’ll tell Reuben how good you are.”
“Fred and me was going to the post office to see the Christmas mail come in,” objected Frank. “Anna won’t let us haul Joe in our cart so far as that on account of the bumps, but if you’ll let us take the perambulator we’ll mind him dandy.”
Rusty argued with him but found that her mother was right, and presently yielded.
“Well, do take it,” she said, “only wait until we’re out of the way. I’ll tell Anna, but be sure she doesn’t know it to-morrow. Wipe the wheels all off as soon as you get back.”
She and Anna went away directly after dinner in order to wander about Wenham and see the Christmas decorations before time for Reuben’s train. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Miller got the baby into his wraps and put him into the perambulator. The child looked at the new equipage with interest and approval and settled himself comfortably among the cushions with an expression that was almost eager. Mrs. Miller kissed him.
“Frank, don’t you feel a little ashamed when Anna’s so good to you to be doing just what she doesn’t want you to?” she asked.
Frank looked rather sheepish.
But Joe, Junior, was almost smiling.
“Well, perhaps one day won’t make any great difference,” Mrs. Miller admitted indulgently.