“My dear Jack” (writes Ruby in her large round hand),
[“I don’t know what else to say,” murmurs the little girl, pausing with her pen uplifted. “I never wrote a letter before.”
“Thank him for the doll, of course,” advises Mrs. Thorne, with an amused smile. “That is the reason for your writing to him at all, Ruby.”
So Ruby, thus adjured, proceeds—]
“Thank you very much for the doll. She is just a lovely doll. I am calling her ‘May Kirke,’ after the name on your card, and after your own name; because I couldn’t call her ‘Jack.’ We are having very hot weather yet; but not so hot as when you were here. The dolls are not quite well, because Fanny fell under old Hans’ waggon, and the waggon went over her face and squashed it. I am very sorry, because I liked her, but your doll will make up. Thank you for writing me. Mamma says I am to send her kindest regards to you. It won’t be long till next Christmas now. I am sending you back your card.
“With love, from your little friend,
“Ruby.
“P.S.—Dad has come in now, and asks me to remember him to you. I have had to write this all over again; mamma said it was so badly spelt.”
Jack Kirke’s eyes soften as he reads the badly written little letter, and it is noticeable that when he reaches a certain point where two words, “May Kirke,” appear, he stops and kisses the paper on which they are written.
Such are the excessively foolish antics of young men who happen to be in love.
CHAPTER VIII.
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS DAY.
“The Christmas bells from hill to hill
Answer each other in the mist.”