le bell had not suddenly
rung with a violence that made them jump.

"That's Jill; see what she wants, Frank;" and while his brother sent off
the basket, Jack told about the new invention, and invited his mates to
examine and admire.

They did so, and shouted with merriment when the next despatch from Jill
arrived. A pasteboard jumping-jack, with one leg done up in cotton-wool
to preserve the likeness, and a great lump of molasses candy in a brown
paper, with accompanying note:--

"Dear Sir,--I saw the boys go in, and know you are having a nice time,
so I send over the candy Molly Loo and Merry brought me. Mammy says I
can't eat it, and it will all melt away if I keep it. Also a picture of
Jack Minot, who will dance on one leg and waggle the other, and make you
laugh. I wish I could come, too. Don't you hate grewel? I do.--In haste,

"J.P."

"Let's all send her a letter," proposed Jack, and out came pens,
ink, paper, and the lamp, and every one fell to scribbling. A droll
collection was the result, for Frank drew a picture of the fatal fall
with broken rails flying in every direction, Jack with his head swollen
to the size of a balloon, and Jill in two pieces, while the various boys
and girls were hit off with a sly skill that gave Gus legs like a stork,
Molly Loo hair several yards long, and Boo a series of visible howls
coming out of an immense mouth in the shape of o's. The oxen were
particularly good, for their horns branched like those of the moose, and
Mr. Grant had a patriarchal beard which waved in the breeze as he bore
the wounded girl to a sled very like a funeral pyre, the stakes being
crowned with big mittens like torches.

"You ought to be an artist. I never saw such a dabster as you are.
That's the very moral of Joe, all in a bunch on the fence, with a blot
to show how purple his nose was," said Gus, holding up the sketch for
general criticism and admiration.

"I'd rather have a red nose than legs like a grasshopper; so you needn't
twit, Daddy," growled Joe, quite unconscious that a blot actually did
adorn his nose, as he labored over a brief despatch.

The boys enjoyed the joke, and one after the other read out his message
to the captive lady:--

"Dear Jill,--Sorry you ain't here. Great fun. Jack pretty lively. Laura
and Lot would send love if they knew of the chance. Fly round and get
well.

"Gus"

"Dear Gilliflower,--Hope you are pretty comfortable in your 'dungeon
cell.' Would you like a