Part 17 (2/2)

”I'll make a bow-arrow, and a gun, and a steamboat for Prudy.”

”And I'll give Susy my large doll, and make a blue dress for it, with flowing sleeves. She shall put all her things into my cabinet.”

”What'll we have to eat? Pecans, and 'simmons, and raisins, and figs.”

”O, we shall have plenty to eat, Horace, we always do. We'll give 'em canned peaches with cream. Susy likes cream as well as a cat.”

”I'd like to see Prudy eat a 'simmon--a green one, I mean,” cried Horace, laughing aloud. ”Seems like I can see her mouth puckering up now.”

Susy and Prudy, all this while, were riding home in the cars, under the care of the conductor.

”O,” sighed Susy, ”I wish we were going backwards, just the other way.

Grandma is going to let Grace boil some candy to-night, and put oilnuts in it.”

”I guess they'll want _me_ to help 'em pull it,” said Prudy.

”There, now, we've got to Brunswick,” murmured Susy. ”I don't like to get so far away from the folks at grandma's. Don't it seem real lonesome?”

”No, indeed,” replied Prudy. ”I'm glad we're goin' home to see mother and the rest of 'em. What do you s'pose the baby'll say?”

But their speech was cut short by some large pieces of sponge cake, which the smiling conductor brought to them wrapped in a newspaper.

Susy and Prudy reached home safely, and there is nothing more to be said about them at present.

I think I will copy the letter which Prudy wrote to her dear friend, Mr. Allen, or which she got aunt Madge to write the next time she went to Portland.

CHRISTMAS DAY.

DEAR MR. 'GUSTUS ALLEN:

When you went off to the wars aunt Madge cried some, for I saw her wiping her eyes. You asked me if I loved you for the candy, but I didn't; I loved you for the nuts and oranges.

I think you was real good to write me a letter. I had just as lief kiss you as not if you _wasn't_ my father; and aunt Madge says she'll answer it, 'cause you couldn't read my writing; _but_ I hain't got any pig! He was a pinky winky little thing, but grandpa kept a keepin' him eatin', and he got so big once when I was gone that they had to kill him.

But he didn't go to heaven, and I'm glad, for I don't ever want to see _him_ again. That was last summer, when I was a _little_ girl. I don't like pigs _now_.

Of course I'm going on five, for if I wasn't most five my grandpa Read wouldn't be dead most two years.

I've got my presents, but they ain't took off the tree yet. Mother gave me a tea-set. O, I wish you could see it, 'cause you wouldn't break a single thing. And I had a doll, and lots of candy and books, and a new dress, and a scarf, and some s.h.i.+ny shoes.

I'm glad you wrote me that darling letter. I can't think of any thing to think of. The skeeters bit me when I was to grandma's. I hate _live_ skeeters. They might be flies, and I wouldn't care then. They used to get into my skin just as easy, and sting me all up.

Won't you write me another letter? Please to.

Susy fastened her tooth to the door-latch once. It got so loose it shook in her mouth, and it hurt her so I had to cry. But _my_ teeth are drove in real hard. I mean it hurt her when 'twas pulled, that's what I mean.

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