“Letters!! Letters! Who wants a letter?” Betsy Clossen had skipped
out to the wide veranda to receive the mail bag from the
good-looking young cowboy Slim.
“I do!”
“I’ll take three!” Megsy and Babs cried in chorus.
“Oh Barbara, what a piggy-wig you are. Three indeed! Now, just to
punish you, it’s Virg who shall have the three and you only one.”
Betsy had poured the contents of the bag on the big library table
and was looking it over. Margaret and Virginia had returned to their
sewing. That latter maid found herself strangely indifferent to
whether or no there would be a letter for her. This she could easily
understand since, was she not at home with Uncle Tex and Malcolm,
and the girls she liked best were right then in the room with her,
and Peyton would not need to write her the weekly letter she had
received while she had been away at boarding school. Betsy
interrupted her thoughts by saying: “I was a prophet! Here are three
letters for Miss Virginia Davis. Guess, Virg, if you can, who they
may be from?”
That tall slender maiden, being addressed, dropped her sewing in her
lap, as she replied, “I’d like to hear from dear Mrs. Martin. Is
there a foreign stamp on any of them, Betsy? Our beloved principal
must be in Japan, I suppose, about now, on her around the world
tour.”
“Nary a foreign stamp. Well, since you can’t guess, I’ll give them
to you and when you open them up you will know who they are from.”
“What a brilliant remark!” Barbara teased, but Virg having accepted
the letters Betsy had handed her, attracted the attention of them
all by exclaiming, “Well, if this isn’t the queerest! I’m just ever
so sure that the handwriting on this envelope is Winona’s, but it is
postmarked Red Riverton. What can she be doing up there? Ever since
she wrote that she was back on the desert with that nice Indian lad,
Fleet Foot, I have been hoping that she would come over to see us.”
As she talked, Virginia was opening the envelope. The first line in
the letter caused her to cry joyfully, “Girls! Girls! Listen to
this!”
“Dear White Lily,” the letter began. “I was married yesterday—”
“What! Winona married to Fleet Foot?” Margaret and Betsy exclaimed
in excited chorus.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Virg told them. “Just wait a minute and
we’ll find out.” Her eyes went rapidly down the sheet and then
turning she gave Margaret an ecstatic little hug. “Oh, what glorious
news! Think of it! Our wonderful Winona has married that splendid
Harry Wilson. It seems that his mother has been ill for a long time
and Winona has been there as nurse ever since we came from school.
That’s why we haven’t seen her.” Then, turning a page, Virg read
aloud:
“I had never even thought of marrying anyone. Of course I knew that
most of all I admired Harry, but I believed that his mother would
want him to marry one of his own kind, but, Virginia, can you think
how great is my happiness when I tell you that his mother loves me,
really loves me, and asked me to be her daughter.
“I have always been so alone, for my father, Chief Grey Hawk, and my
brother, Strong Heart, were much away, that it seems strange to me
that anyone should care.
“I told Harry that much as I love him, I feared that it would be
hard for me to be as domestic as his wife should be, for there are
times when I feel that I am kin to the wind that sweeps over the
desert or to the bird that flies where it will. Then it was that
Harry told me his own good news. He has received an appointment as
state geologist and we are soon to start on horseback (our honeymoon
we call it) and travel all over Arizona that he may obtain specimens
of rock to send to Smithsonian Institute.
“We would not go were it not that Mrs. Wilson is rapidly regaining
her strength and that her recently widowed sister in the East is
coming to keep house, and to make this her home.
“I am sorry not to see my school-mates before we depart, but that
cannot be, as we leave on horseback at dawn tomorrow and journey
north.”
There were tears in the eyes of Virginia as she lifted them from the
letter to look at her friends.
“How happy they are going to be,” she said, “I am glad for them
both.”
“We were wondering who among us would be the first bride,” Betsy
remarked. “We little thought, did we, that it would be Winona?”
Betsy Clossen had recognized her aunt’s handwriting on one of her
letters and so when Margaret asked which was to be read next, that
maiden eagerly announced, “Mine, please, for I do want to know what
Aunt Laura has to say. If the quarantine has been lifted, she will
want me to be coming home, and, although I have had the most
wonderful time here on the desert, and I am endlessly grateful to
you, Virginia, for having invited me, for you saved me from a most
desolate month all alone in school, still, of course, if the twins
have recovered, I do want to spend part of my vacation at my
mother-aunt’s Cape Cod home.”
“I know dear,” Virginia replied, as she clasped her friend’s hand.
“Although other places may be interesting, there is no place quite
like the one that shelters our own home people. Read your letter and
tell us about it.”
The missive did not take long to read.
“Darling girl,” it began. “I rejoice to be able to tell you that the
quarantine has been lifted and that the twins are wild to see their
best loved cousin Bettykins, and, as for me, my heart is yearning
for my sister’s motherless little daughter, so come, dear, just as
soon as the fastest train bound for the East can bring you to three
people who so dearly love you.
“One of them being, Your Aunt Laura.”
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” Betsy told them. “I’m so
glad somebody loves me that way. Mother and Aunt Laura were twins,
and she seems more like a mother to me than my other two aunts,
although, they, too, are nice.” Then putting her arms impulsively
about her hostess, she exclaimed, “Virginia, how can I thank you for
having been so kind, and you, too, Margaret.” She reached out and
clasped the hand of her other friend. Then she asked eagerly: “Virg,
shall you mind if I begin to pack at once and take the next train
East?”
“Of course not, dear, I know just how you feel and we will help you,
but if you really take the next train, we will all have to rush to
get you ready.”
“My letters can wait,” Margaret said unselfishly. “They are from
members of our Lucky Thirteen Club, and although I know that they
will be filled with jolly news items, they will be just as
interesting later.”
As Megsy spoke, she placed her unopened letters between the pages of
a magazine on the table for safe keeping and then she joined the
other girls who were already opening Betsy’s trunk, preparing to
pack.
That maiden had skipped to Malcolm’s room to tell him the news, but
she had found him asleep and, knowing that rest was one thing
required to restore his strength, she had tiptoed out. Three hours
later, she went again to his door, this time her hat and coat on.
The lad had been informed by his sister of Betsy’s sudden and
unexpected departure and was prepared to say goodbye.
“Miss Cossen,” he said as he held out his hand, “I hear that you are
a wonderful detective, and so, if we ever have need of your
services, may we send for you?”
Betsy laughed. “Indeed yes, and don’t forget,” she replied, “for I
know that I will be just as wild to come back as I am now to go home
to Aunt Laura and the twins.”
Another three hours had passed and Margaret and Virginia were again
in the living room having escorted Betsy to Silver Creek Junction,
where the train, being on time, had borne her away.
“Well,” Virginia remarked as she sank down in a big easy chair,
“what a whirl of a day we have had. I am almost dizzy-tired. First
there was that exciting news about Winona’s marriage and then for
the last six hours we have rushed madly to get that dear girl
started for the place that is home to her. Now the next thing for us
to do is to decide where we shall take Malcolm for a complete rest.”