"My dear Sir Leon,—Many thanks for your kind letter. I am quite ready to be married. Matty made my wedding dress yesterday. It is of white satin a piece left over from her Mothers and trimmed with white lace. I have a lovely vail. Matty says she will bring the raspberry vinegar" ("She's spelled it different from what I did," thought Patty; "guess she asked Lida") "and some crullers. And now I have an idear. Let us have a tellegraph. You ask Patty Keniston to come to the gate post at nine to-morrow and Matty will meet her with her end of the string. I think it is nice to live next door. Tell Patty Matty won't speak to her so she needent be afraid to come. I think your letter was lovely. I cannot make one half so nice but then your the gentleman and Im the lady so anyway it wouldent be propper. I love you. Tell Patty to be sure and come. Ever your faithfull ladilove,
"Rosinella Saint Hilaire."
"How splendid!" said Patty. "We can write all the time, then. I may, mayn't I, mother?"
Mrs. Keniston nodded. She was trying on a dress, and her mouth was full of pins.
And after that it wasn't hard at all. The telegraph was such a blessing! But still, when the week came to an end, Patty and Matty flew into each other's arms as if they had been separated for a year.
"Oh, Matty!" said Patty, and "Oh, Patty!" said Matty, and "Hi!" said Job Twitchett, bobbing his head over the fence, "yer'll fight agen in a fortnit."
"Go away, you bad boy," said Patty, facing him fiercely. "We shall NEVER fight again!"
And though Job repeated "Hi!" and snapped his fingers, they didn't—for a whole month.