than I did
her. And I was afraid she'd do it again, and so I didn't like to ask
her. And so I didn't do it.

Then, after a time, I got out his letter and read it again. And all of
a sudden I felt all warm and happy, just as I did when I first got it;
and some way I was back with him in the observatory and he was telling
me all about the stars. And I forgot all about being afraid of him,
and about the crops and the President and my-country-'tis-of-thee.
And I just remembered that he'd asked me to tell him what I did on
Christmas Day; and I knew right off that that would be easy. Why, just
the easiest thing in the world! And so I got out a fresh sheet of
paper and dipped my pen in the ink and began again.

And this time I didn't have a bit of trouble. I told him all about the
tree I had Christmas Eve, and the presents, and the little colored
lights, and the fun we had singing and playing games. And then how, on
Christmas morning, there was a lovely new snow on the ground, and Mr.
Easterbrook came with a perfectly lovely sleigh and two horses to take
Mother and me to ride, and what a splendid time we had, and how lovely
Mother looked with her red cheeks and bright eyes, and how, when we
got home, Mr. Easterbrook said we looked more like sisters than mother
and daughter, and wasn't that nice of him. Of course, I told a little
more about Mr. Easterbrook, too, so Father'd know who he was--a new
friend of Mother's that I'd never known till I came back this time,
and how he was very rich and a most estimable man. That Aunt Hattie
said so.

Then I told him that in the afternoon another gentleman came and took
us to a perfectly beautiful concert. And I finished up by telling
about the Christmas party in the evening, and how lovely the house
looked, and Mother, and that they said I looked nice, too.

And that was all. And when I had got it done, I saw that I had written
a long letter, a great long letter. And I was almost afraid it was
too long, till I remembered that Father had asked me for it; he had
_asked_ me to tell him all about what I did on Christmas Day.

So I sent it off.

* * * * *

_March_.

Yes, I know it's been quite a while, but there hasn't been a thing to
say--nothing new or exciting, I mean. There's just school, and the
usual things; only Mr. Easterbrook doesn't come any more. (Of course,
the violinist hasn't come since that day he proposed.) I don't know
whether Mr. East