ster's girls: but Nelly is like
anybody grown up,--I suppose it is because she has
seen trouble, as people say here; and the
minister's girls are _little 'fraid cats_. That is
what Serena says, and is sure to make you laugh.
"Try and make 'em hop 'round," Serena told me at
the party, and I did try; but they aren't good
hoppers, and that's all there is to say. I sent
down to Riverport and bought Seth a book of violin
airs, and he practiced until two o'clock one
morning, so that Serena and Jonathan were saying
dreadful things. Aunt Mary is about the same, and
so is Aunt Barbara, and they send their love.
Papa, you must never tell, but I hate the one and
love the other. Mary Beck isn't half so bad as I
am to say that, but now it is a black mark and
must stay. There is one awful piece of news. The
Fosters' father has broken out of jail and
escaped, and they are offering a great reward, and
it is in all the papers. I ought to go to see
Nelly, but I dread it. I am writing this last page
another day, for yesterday the sun came out after
the shower and I went out with Aunt Barbara. She
is letting Mrs. Foster do some sewing for me. She
says that my clothes were in ruins; she did
indeed, and that they had been badly washed. I
hope that yours are not the same. Mrs. Foster
looked terribly frightened and pale, and asked
Aunt B. to come into the other room, and told her
about Mr. Foster. Then it was in the paper last
night. Papa, dear, I do remember what you said in
one of your letters about being a Tideshead girl
myself for this summer, and not standing off and
finding fault. I feel more like a Tideshead girl
lately, but I wish they wouldn't keep saying how
slow it is and nothing going on. We might do so
many nice things, but they make such great fusses
first, instead of just going and doing them, the
way you and I do. _They think of every reason why
you can't do things that you can do._ The currants
are all gone. You can't have a currant pie this
year. I thought those by the fence, under the
cherry-tree, might last