"I do hope so. She's been fairly mourning for some, day after day."
"It's all a mistake or neglect of somebody in your father's office in the city, Susie. There's three for you, and one is a fat one. Where's Port? There's as many for him."
Port was out at the barn; but Pen found him, and brought him in, as if his life depended upon getting those letters at once.
"Mother! Father!" said Susie, with a face that changed fast from red to pale, and back again, as she dropped into aunt Judith's big rocking-chair, and began to read those letters.
"Is it all good news?" asked Mrs. Farnham in a minute or so.
"All perfect, aunt Sarah. Mother seems to be doing very well."
She read on and on; and Port had now come in, and was doing the same; and it was as if with one voice they suddenly exclaimed,—
"How strange it seems!"
"What is so strange?" asked aunt Judith in almost a tone of alarm. "Did any thing happen to either of 'em?"
"Happen! No, indeed, but it's warm weather there. Father complains of the heat. Green grass and trees, and flowers and birds, and no sign of winter! Seems as if it couldn't be in the same world."