My arm got well, and the next thing that happened was a letter from home—to us two little chickens, Fel and me both. Seth brought it from the "post-ovviz," directed to Miss Ruphelle Allen and Miss Margaret Parlin, care of Joseph Tenney, Esq. Here it lies in my writing-desk, almost as yellow as gold, and quite as precious. How many times do you suppose we little girls read it and kissed it? How many times do you suppose we went to sleep with it under our pillows? We took turns doing that, and thought it brought us pleasant dreams.
Her mother wrote one page of the letter, and my mother another; 'Ria a few lines, and Ned these words, in a round hand:—
"DEAR SISTER: I suppose you want to hear all about our house and barn. I went to Gus Allen's party. We trained, and a pretty set of fellows we were."
That was all he told about our house and barn, and he did not sign his name. Perhaps he would have said more after resting a while; but Miss Rubie saved him the trouble, and ended the letter, by inviting "you darlings,"—Fel and me,—to her wedding, which was to take place in a few weeks.
We had a little waltzing to do then! A wedding! We danced right and left, with that letter under our feet.
"I should think you'd better read on, and see what the man's name is, you little Flutterbudgets," said cousin Joseph, laughing at us.
We hadn't thought of that. We looked, and found it was uncle John! Another surprise. It was a new idea to both of us, that a man who had had one wife should ever have another. We remembered aunt Persis, who wanted to steam Fel.
"And she died years, and years, and years ago."
"About eleven months," said cousin Lydia. Your uncle John is obliged to go to England this fall, and wants to take Zed; and I am very glad Miss Rubie is willing to be Zed's mother, and will go with them."
"How can she be his mother?" said I. "She's his auntie."