"Now listen, dear." The mother went on once more reading from the letter: "Aunt Sarah says Cousin Harry can hardly wait until vacation time to see Bert, and she also says, 'For myself I cannot wait to see the babies. I want to hear Freddie laugh, and I want to hear Flossie "say her piece," as she did last Christmas, then I just want to hug them both to death, and so does their Uncle Daniel.'"
"Good!—goody!" broke in the irrepressible Freddie again. "I'll just hug Aunt Sarah this way," and he fell on his mother's neck and squeezed until she cried for him to stop.
"I guess she'll like that," Freddie wound up, in real satisfaction at his hugging ability.
"Not if you spoil her hair," Flossie insisted, while the overcome mother tried to adjust herself generally.
"Is that all?" Flossie asked.
"No, there is a message for Bert and Nan too, but I must keep that for lunch time. Nobody likes stale news," the mother replied.
"But can't we hear it when Bert and Nan come from school?" coaxed Flossie.
"Of course," the mother assured her. "But you must run out in the air now. We have taken such a long time to read the letter."
"Oh, aren't you glad!" exclaimed Flossie to her brother, as they ran along the stone wall that edged the pretty terrace in front of their home.
"Glad! I'm just—so glad—so glad—I could almost fly up in the air!" the boy managed to say in chunks, for he had never had much experience with words, a very few answering for all his needs.