“Letters, Rose?” her husband said inquiringly as she came swiftly toward him.
“Notes of invitation, I think,” she replied, pausing under the lamp to look them over. “Yes, one for you and me,” handing it to him, “one for Dr. and Mrs. Landreth, one for Annis, and one for Elsie.”
“For me, mamma!” cried the little girl, holding out an eager hand for it. “And Annis’s, mamma, may I take it to her?”
“Yes,” Rose replied, giving her the two. “Do you know where she and her sister are?”
“Probably in the parlor,” Mr. Dinsmore said, leading the way thither.
They found the doctor, Mildred, and Annis all there, and delivered them their notes.
“Papa, may I read mine?” Elsie asked softly, standing close at his side. “I haven’t opened it yet.”
“You may,” he answered, with an approving smile.
“From the Howards of Pinegrove,” remarked the doctor. “Well, we accept I suppose, as a matter of course, as there seems to be nothing to prevent.”
“Nothing for me, I believe,” Mildred said, “except that I don’t like to leave my baby long enough to attend an evening party.”