“Yes—yes, and it’s for you,” screamed Joel, sticking it into his hand.
Davie threw off the patchwork quilt and, tumbling off the bed, ran out into the kitchen. “A letter from Polly—and it’s for me!” he shouted.
Just then the door opened and Mother Pepper came in to meet Ben coming out from the bedroom with Phronsie on his shoulder. She kept saying, “I watched Davie all the while—I did.”
It took Davie so long to open the letter with trembling fingers, that Joel impatiently kept crying, “Do hurry, Dave!” beating on the table for emphasis.
“Hush, Joe,” cried Ben, “we couldn’t hear the letter if it were open, you make such a noise.”
“I’ll stop when he opens it,” said Joel. “Oh, do hurry, Dave!” and he ran across the kitchen with Mamsie’s big bread-knife. But Davie already had the letter out of its envelope, and spread in his hand.
They all held their breath to catch every word, and Grandma Bascom put her hand behind her best ear, and Davie began:
“Dear Davie:
“I just wish I could hop into the little brown house and—(O dear me! I wrote that crooked) see you all. To-morrow I’m going to write to Joel.”
“Hooray!” screamed Joel. He rushed up to Grandma and shouted in her ear, “Polly’s going to write to me to-morrow!”