Sallie unbuttoned the last layer of sweater and drew out a pile of mail which she distributed, calling the name of each girl.
"Molly Brown," she called, handing Molly a letter from Kentucky.
"Miss Sen, a letter from the Land of the Rising Sun. I hope it will rise warmer there than it set here this evening. Miss Jessie Lynch, a letter addressed in the handwriting of a male. Ahem! Miss Lynch, another letter in the same handwriting of presumably the same male."
Much laughter among those not already absorbed in letters.
"Miss Margaret Wakefield, an official document from the capital of these United States of America. Miss Julia S. Kean, a parental epistle which no doubt contains other things. Miss Molly Brown, who appears to be secretly purchasing a farm."
Sallie handed Molly a long envelope, while the others snatched their letters and turned away. Only Nance had received no mail that day; yet, more than any girl there, she enjoyed corresponding and sent off weekly voluminous letters to her father, her only correspondent except Andy McLean, who was not yet considered strong enough to write letters.
It was with something very near to envy that she watched the faces of her friends as they waded through long family letters with an occasional laugh or comment:
"It's been ten below at home."
"Father forgot to put in my check. He's getting very thoughtless."
"My wandering parents are going to Florida. They can't stand the cold in New York."