Isabelle rose.
“I’ll show them to you,” she said; and she ran upstairs, and brought a collection of letters to lay in Mrs. Benjamin’s lap.
“Thank thee, dear. May I read them?”
The girl nodded. Mrs. Benjamin lifted the first one. It was addressed to: “My Regular Parents.” Isabelle went and threw herself down by the fire, her face turned away, while Mrs. Benjamin read:
Oh my dear Parents:
I wish you could see this beautiful school I’ve come to. It has hills, and a large house, and Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin. Mr. Benjamin has a wrinkly smile, and Mrs. Benjamin is so understanding. They are Quakers and say “thee” and “thou” for “you.” It is sweet. When I come home let us say “thee” and “thou” to each other, will you? It sounds so very special.
We study out of doors, and it is fun. We play lots of things, like basketball in the field, so we are healthy. My room-mate is Peggy Starr, a very young girl, often tiresome.
This is Sunday, and all the girls write home, so I write you, dear, dear, regular parents. I think of you a great deal. Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin are just like you, that is why I love them so dearly. I am glad we are poor and have only each other, aren’t you? I know some people named Max and Wally, who are rich. They have so much golf, and parties that they can’t ever bother with their child, except to scold her. But you care about me, don’t you? And you like to hear what I do at school. I would be lonesome without you.
I will try hard to do good, because I love you so much.