Wait-a-Minute jumped on the table and began upsetting the piles. Paul swept her off with his arm. "You tend to your kittens," he said not unkindly. "We got important business!" He took out his pocketknife. "I'll do the slitting," he announced.
"I'll do the pullin' out and unfoldin'," Grandpa offered.
"You read them to us, Grandma," Maureen said. "You make everything sound like a storybook."
Grandma blushed. "Mr. Conant's got the edification. I'd be right shy readin' in front of him."
"Not at all, not at all, Mrs. Beebe. I agree with Maureen. Many a Sunday I've gone by your class and heard you reading from the Bible. I feel complimented you let me stay and be part of the family."
For a moment the slitting of the envelopes and the crackle of paper were the only sounds in the room. Then Grandma picked up the Special Delivery letter, took a deep breath, and in her best Sunday voice began:
"Dear Paul and Maureen,
"I am sorry the storm came. But I am glad Misty had a baby. Was I surprised!
"I hope some day I can visit your island or maybe even live there. I hope to go to Pony Penning Day and maybe buy a pony.