"Really," she said, "I have hopes of Clarence at last. I never knew him volunteer to escort anybody anywhere before in his life."
"I say," remarked Clarence, the evening before the girls went back to school,—"I say, suppose you write to a fellow sometimes, Clover."
"Do you mean yourself by 'a fellow'?" laughed Clover.
"You don't suppose I meant George Hickman or that donkey of an Eels, did you?" retorted Clarence.
"No, I didn't. Well, I've no objection to writing to a fellow, if that fellow is you, provided the fellow answers my letters. Will you?"
"Yes," gruffly, "but you mustn't show 'em to any girls or laugh at my writing, or I'll stop. Lilly says my writing is like beetle tracks. Little she knows about it though! I don't write to her! Promise, Clover!"
"Yes, I promise," said Clover, pleased at the notion of Clare's proposing a correspondence of his own accord. Next morning they all left for Hillsover. Clarence's friendship and the remembrance of their day with the Agnews were the pleasantest things that the girls carried away with them from their autumn vacation.
CHAPTER X. A BUDGET OF LETTERS.
"Hillsover, October 21st.
Dearest Elsie,—I didn't write you last Saturday, because that was the day we came back to school, and there hasn't been one minute since when I could. We thought perhaps Miss Jane would let us off from the abstracts on Sunday, because it was the first day, and school was hardly begun; and, if she had, I was going to write to you instead, but she didn't. She said the only way to keep girls out of mischief was to keep them busy. Rose Red is sure that something has gone wrong with Miss Jane's missionary during the vacation,—she's so dreadfully cross. Oh, dear, how I do hate to come back and be scolded by her again!