Mrs.
Brewster smiled indulgently at her intense young daughter, then
reminded her of the unopened communication.
"Dear me! So much excitement in one day--I don't see how I can quiet
down again. But _who_ do you suppose would write to _me_?" queried
Polly, holding the envelope at arm's length and studying the hand-
writing.
"I'm not clairvoyant, Polly, so suppose you open it and see for
yourself," laughed Mrs. Brewster.
"Well, I hate to spoil this nice stationery but--here it goes!"
murmured Polly, severing an end of the envelope as if she was the
executioner of an innocent victim.
"See who it's from, Polly, while I dish up your dinner. Of course you
don't care whether you ever eat again, but I would suggest that at
least you strive to ward off starvation," remarked her mother,
teasingly, as she took a well-filled plate from the oven.
"Wh-h-y--of all things!" gasped Polly, as she read the letter quickly.
Mrs. Brewster stood waiting to hear more, and Polly gave another
hurried glance at the signature before explaining.
"It's from Anne Stewart--the girl who used to teach at Bear Forks
school that time the teacher got sick and had to leave for a few
months. You know--the pretty one with the blonde hair that all the big
scholars raved over?" announced Polly.
"Oh, yes! The one that you said was so happy to be in this wonderful
country?"
"Yes, that's the girl! Well, guess what she writes me?" And Polly waved
the written sheet above her head.
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