"I'd like to see Prudy eat a 'simmon—a green one, I mean," cried Horace, laughing aloud. "Seems like I can see her mouth puckering up now."
Susy and Prudy, all this while, were riding home in the cars, under the care of the conductor.
"O," sighed Susy, "I wish we were going backwards, just the other way. Grandma is going to let Grace boil some candy to-night, and put oilnuts in it."
"I guess they'll want me to help 'em pull it," said Prudy.
"There, now, we've got to Brunswick," murmured Susy. "I don't like to get so far away from the folks at grandma's. Don't it seem real lonesome?"
"No, indeed," replied Prudy. "I'm glad we're goin' home to see mother and the rest of 'em. What do you s'pose the baby'll say?"
But their speech was cut short by some large pieces of sponge cake, which the smiling conductor brought to them wrapped in a newspaper.
Susy and Prudy reached home safely, and there is nothing more to be said about them at present.
I think I will copy the letter which Prudy wrote to her dear friend, Mr. Allen, or which she got aunt Madge to write the next time she went to Portland.
Christmas Day.