“I wish I were, dear,” corrected his mother.
“Well, were, then, Mother. There isn’t much difference in the way you say it. I wish I was there anyway!”
His mother sighed, but Alden’s thoughts were far from English grammar. Instead, they were centering upon the contents of a fat letter from his sister Priscilla, which his father had just read.
“I’ve got more respect for Priscilla than I ever had in all my life,” he continued. “I never supposed she’d have sand enough to go on a bear hunt. Now, if she’d just shot the bear herself, it would be——”
“Why, Alden!” interrupted his mother. “Imagine Priscilla doing a thing like that! You don’t 34 suppose, do you, dear,” she continued, turning to Mr. Winthrop, who was reading his daughter’s letter for a second time while he finished his breakfast, “you don’t suppose Priscilla is really handling a gun herself?”
“Sounds like it to me,” said Priscilla’s father as he turned the pages. “She says, ‘I can knock a bottle all to pieces at thirty yards. Don’t you call that pretty good?’”
“I’d like to know the size of the bottle before replying,” commented John.
“Dear me!” said Mrs. Winthrop anxiously. “I’m willing she should ride horseback and climb mountains and camp in a perfect wilderness if that’s what Western people term pleasure, but I do wish she wouldn’t shoot a gun! I’m afraid I shan’t have a minute’s real peace till she gets home. Of course I know she’s in the best of hands, but accidents are so common. Just yesterday I was reading where——”
“Now, Mother!” remonstrated the boys.
“Don’t worry for a moment, Mother,” reassured Mr. Winthrop. “She’ll come home safe and sound. 35 I’ll trust those good people out there to look after her.” He turned the pages again. “She’s certainly having the time of her life! Makes me wish I were young again myself!”