"I think these will be just the thing for the calendars, Mary. You can color them, and we shall mount them on this dark green cardboard and paste one of these tiny calendars under each. You may either use ribbon to hang them by or crochet a cord of this silk. I knew that you would not wish to send your father and mother each a calendar, so I thought we could make a blotter for your mother and use one of these long, narrow pictures for the cover."
"Gene, you are just wonderful for thinking up things! I didn't know what in the world to make for Mother. Do you know of anything for Aunt Mandy?"
"I can show you an easy way to make a whisk broom holder."
"That will be just the thing, Gene! Dear, me! These pictures are all so pretty that I don't know which to choose for Father's calendar. Let us make his present first. Here is a snow scene. I shall paint that. It is so warm in Italy that Father will be glad to have something cool-looking hanging over his desk. If we have time to make them, I think I shall send Father and Mother each a calendar and a blotter. Father can take his to his office, you know."
Together they worked and chatted until dusk, when Mary had two pictures colored, and Gene had everything ready for the next day's work.
"Letters! Letters!" called the Doctor from the foot of the stairs.
"Why, Gene! I never thought of the postman this afternoon. I was so busy." And Mary ran down to hear the first real news of her dear ones.
"Oh, what lovely fat letters, Uncle!"
"Yes, indeed. This one from your father is in the form of a diary. He wrote a little every day and mailed it on the steamer before it reached Queenstown, as I told you he would do."
The little girl listened breathlessly to every word of those two letters, and her eyes filled with tears when she heard all the loving messages which they contained.