Sweet Content - Mrs. Molesworth

It was a letter from Yvonne—a letter and an invitation. I am to go to Southerwold for the Easter holidays! Oh, I can hardly believe it. I don’t know if I am glad or not. I am so afraid they will have grown so grand, and that I shall feel strange and shy. Oh, my dear Evey and Mary—if I could but have you again like last year—with your dear old shabby tweed jackets, and the loving hearts inside them!

Southerwold, April 16th, 188-.
I am here, at Southerwold, and oh, so happy! It is the most beautiful, the grandest place you can imagine. They have everything! But it is not the place nor the grandeur that makes me happy. It is themselves. They are just quite, exactly the same. I will never, never, never have horrid, distrustful fancies about them again. They met me at the station—Evey and Mary—in their own beautiful pony-carriage, and in one moment I felt it was all right. And just fancy—they had on the old tweed jackets!

“It has got so suddenly hot,” said Yvonne, in her funny, practical way, “that we couldn’t stand our winter things; so we routed these out. They do very well, don’t they? I suppose we shall get new ones this year. There isn’t any difficulty now about such things, you see, Connie,” she added smiling.

“How pretty your jacket is, Connie,” said Mary, admiringly. “Do let us ask mother to get us ones something like it, Evey.”

Dear Mary—they were all dear. They are going to show me all the things they do—the poor people, and the schools, and everything, so that when I come here I shall know their ways and be able to help them. For I am to come very often they say. And the week after next, dear little mamma and papa are coming to fetch me. I shan’t mind going home, for I know now we shall never be separated for very long, and never at all in our hearts.