for joy.

"Miss? Miss?" repeated she, as Horace re-read the direction; for she was
not learned in the mysteries of writing, and could not read it for
herself.

"O, yes. _Miss_, certainly! If it was to me, it would be Mr."

"_Master_, you mean," corrected Grace.

"No, Horace, you are not Mr. yet!" said Dotty, confidently; "you've
never been married."

The next thing in order was the reading of the letter. Dotty tore it
open with a trembling hand. I should like to see another letter that
would make a child so happy as that one did! It was written by three
different people, and all to the same little girl. Not a line to Uncle
Henry or Aunt Maria, or Horace or Grace. All to Dotty's self, as if she
were a personage of the first importance.

Mamma began it. How charming to see "My dear little daughter," traced so
carefully in printed capitals! Then it was such a satisfaction to be
informed, in the sweetest language, that this same "dear little
daughter" was sadly missed. Dotty was so glad to be missed!

There was a present waiting for her at home. Mrs. Parlin was not willing
to say what it was; but it had been sent by Aunt Madge from the city of
New York, and must be something fine.

There were two whole pages of the clear, fair writing, signed at the
close, "Your affectionate mother, Mary L. Parlin."

Just as if Dotty didn't know what mother's name was!

Then Susy followed with a short account of Zip, and how he had stuck
himself full of burs. (He wasn't choked yet, thought Dotty; and that was
a comfort.) Then a longer account of the children's picnic at Deering's
Oaks.

Dotty sighed, and felt that fate had been rather cruel in depriving her
of that picnic.

"But I have had something better than that," said she, brightening;
"I've walked on an Ensmallment, and I have picked pecans."

But the best was to come. It was from Prudy.

"MY DEAR LITTLE DARLING SISTER: I want to see you more
than tongue can tell. Norah let Susy bake some biscuits last night,
because there wasn't anybody at home but mother, and grandma, and
Susy, and Norah, and me. But they were as tough as _sew leather_.
Susy forgot the creamor tartar, and soda, and salt. She wasn't to
blame.

"I'm so lonesome I can't wait to see my darling sister.

"Now I have some news to tell:--

"Mother is going to be married!

"You will think that is funny; but she is going to be married to
the same h