"That is a wee bit like the story of the man who made a large hole for his cat to go in and out, and a small one alongside for the kitten. But it is certainly the nicest kind of a post-office, and I think, perhaps, that I shall get more pleasure out of it than any of you." Which was a much truer prophecy than Miss Isabel herself dreamed. "We are to write letters to-morrow, and begin Monday, are we not?"
"Yes; oh, what fun!" cried Trix, catching Amy around the waist, and waltzing her about the old apple-tree and back again.
No one but Margery seemed to remember "the late unpleasantness;" she stood a little apart, very pale, but trying to smile.
"Do you know, I think it is unusually warm for the sixth of June?" remarked Miss Isabel. "I wonder if I could get any one to walk down to Bent's to eat ice-cream with me?"
Jack turned a somersault at once.
"Don't try if you don't want to succeed, Miss Isabel," he said.
"Come, then, every one of you," she cried merrily, "for I do want to succeed. And I propose that we wear our beautiful new badges, for we are to go in a body as a club."
"Let me pin them on, please," said Margery. She had been longing for a chance to beg pardon, and saw it here. "I'm dreadfully sorry I was so cross, Jack," she whispered, pinning the badge, and at the same time rubbing her cheek on his gray jacket.
"Oh, that's all right, Megsy. You're never much cross," he whispered back, and would have liked to have kissed her little white face, for he dearly loved his cousin.
"Please forgive me, Trix, for being so mean," she whispered, as she reached her, and Trix stared at her for a moment in amazement.