The children chatted on for another fifteen minutes, and then Miss Simpson came to tell them their mother had called for them, and the friends had to say good-by.
“But it won’t be for so very long,” said Gretel, cheerfully. “You know you are coming to make us a long visit in September. It’s almost July now.”
“Yes, and I’m going to write you a long letter every week all summer,” promised Geraldine, resolutely choking down a rising lump in her throat. “Mother says if we read a little history, and write a letter to somebody every day, we needn’t have any more lessons till we come back to New York. Isn’t that splendid? We were so afraid we were going to have another old teacher. Not that Miss Heath was really old, but then, you see, we don’t care much for teachers, except when they’re not teaching.”
“What are you thinking of, Gretel?” Miss Simpson asked, with a smile, as she brought her little patient a glass of milk, when the visitors had gone. “You look as if you were very happy about something.”
“I am,” said Gretel, softly. “I was just thinking how many lovely people there are in the world, and how beautiful it is to be loved.”
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.