Grandpa looked inquiringly at the children. "To my notion," he hesitated, "it'd be too long a handle fer such a little mite—even if we was to boil it down some."
Maureen was impatient. "More, Grandma. More!"
"Here's one from a fifth-grader up to Glassboro, New Jersey:
"I am a boy ten and a half years old. This is not a very long letter, but I like the name 'Windy' for Misty's colt."
Mr. Conant made a second checkmark after Windy. "Two for Windy," he announced.
"Doggone, if this ain't jes' like an election," Grandpa said. "Vote countin' and all."
Grandma broke out in smiles. "This one's mostly questions:
"Dear Paul and Maureen,
"How are you? I am fine. I read in the paper that Misty is safe.
"How do you pronounce your island's name?