“I'd rather have a red nose than legs like a grasshopper; so you needn't twit, Daddy,” growled Joe, quite unconscious that a blot actually did adorn his nose, as he labored over a brief despatch.
The boys enjoyed the joke, and one after the other read out his message to the captive lady:—
“Dear Jill,—Sorry you ain't here. Great fun. Jack pretty lively. Laura and Lot would send love if they knew of the chance. Fly round and get well.
“Gus”
“Dear Gilliflower,—Hope you are pretty comfortable in your 'dungeon cell.' Would you like a serenade when the moon comes? Hope you will soon be up again, for we miss you very much. Shall be very happy to help in any way I can. Love to your mother. Your true friend,
“E.D.”
“Miss Pecq.
“Dear Madam,—I am happy to tell you that we are all well, and hope you are the same. I gave Jem Cox a licking because he went to your desk. You had better send for your books. You won't have to pay for the sled or the fence. Jack says he will see to it. We have been having a spread over here. First-rate things. I wouldn't mind breaking a leg, if I had such good grub and no chores to do. No more now, from yours, with esteem,
“Joseph P. Flint”
Joe thought that an elegant epistle, having copied portions of it from the “Letter Writer,” and proudly read it off to the boys, who assured him that Jill would be much impressed.