it very good of Maria to be
willing to come with me, and she said she did not think it needed much
goodness, and that _anybody_ would go with me _any_where. The boys have
a little black and tan dog which Culyer gave them, and M.'s bird is a
fine singer. Our family circle now consists of

Pa Prentiss,
Ma "
Min."
Geo. "
Hen. "
Maria "
(horse) Coco "
(cow) Sukey "
(dog) Nep "
(bird) Cherry "

We never saw Dorset so early, and when the foliage was in such
perfection.

Last Tuesday I reached our door perfectly and disgracefully loaded with
parcels, and said to myself, "I wonder what Mr. M. would say if he saw
me with this load?" when instantly he opened the door to let me in!
Account for this if you can. Why should I have thought of him among all
the people I know? Did his mind touch mine through the closed door? It
makes me almost shudder to think such things can be. Well, I must love
and leave you. I am going to have a small basket on the table in the
hall with ferns, mosses, and shells in it. They all send love from Pa
Prentiss down to Sukey. What a pity you could not come home for the
summer and go back again! I believe I'll go to your bedroom door and
say, "I wonder whether Annie would shriek out if she saw me in this old
sacque, instead of her pretty one?" and perhaps you'll open and let me
in. Will you or won't you? Now I'm going to ride.

I've been and I've got back, and I'm frozen solid, and am glad I've
got back to my den. G. and H. are now in the kitchen making biscuits.
Good-bye, chicken. Mamma PRENTISS.

_June 12th._--Everybody is in bed save Darby and Joan. We slept last
night under four blankets and a silk comforter, which will give you a
faint idea of the weather. It has been beautiful to-day, and we have sat
out of doors a good deal. Papa and the boys went out to our hill after
tea last evening and picked two quarts of strawberries, so as to have
a short-cake to-day. M. took me yesterday to see a nest in the orchard
which was full of birds parted into fours--not a crack between, and one
of them so crowded that it filled about no space at all. The hymn says,
"Birds in their little nests agree," and I should think they would, for
they have no room to disagree in. They all four stared at us with awful,
almost embarrassing solemnity, and each had a little yellow moustache. I
had no idea they lived packed in so--no wonder they looked melancholy.
The sight of them, especially of t