about the new invention, and invited his mates to examine and admire.
They did so, and shouted with merriment when the next despatch from Jill arrived. A pasteboard jumping-jack, with one leg done up in cotton-wool to preserve the likeness, and a great lump of molasses candy in a brown paper, with accompanying note:—
“Dear Sir,—I saw the boys go in, and know you are having a nice time, so I send over the candy Molly Loo and Merry brought me. Mammy says I can't eat it, and it will all melt away if I keep it. Also a picture of Jack Minot, who will dance on one leg and waggle the other, and make you laugh. I wish I could come, too. Don't you hate grewel? I do.—In haste,
“J.P.”
“Let's all send her a letter,” proposed Jack, and out came pens, ink, paper, and the lamp, and every one fell to scribbling. A droll collection was the result, for Frank drew a picture of the fatal fall with broken rails flying in every direction, Jack with his head swollen to the size of a balloon, and Jill in two pieces, while the various boys and girls were hit off with a sly skill that gave Gus legs like a stork, Molly Loo hair several yards long, and Boo a series of visible howls coming out of an immense mouth in the shape of o's. The oxen were particularly good, for their horns branched like those of the moose, and Mr. Grant had a patriarchal beard which waved in the breeze as he bore the wounded girl to a sled very like a funeral pyre, the stakes being crowned with big mittens like torches.
“You ought to be an artist. I never saw such a dabster as you are. That's the very moral of Joe, all in a bunch on the fence, with a blot to show how purple his nose was,” said Gus, holding up the sketch for general criticism and admiration.
“I'd rather have a red nose than legs like a grasshopper; so you needn't twit, Daddy,” growled Joe, quite unconscious that a blot actually did adorn his nose, as he labored over a brief despatch.
The boys enjoyed the joke, and one after the other read out his message to the captive lady:—
“Dear Jill,—Sorry you ain't here. Great fun. Jack pretty lively. Laura and Lot would send love if they knew of the chance. Fly round and get well.
“Gus”
“Dear Gilliflower,—Hope you are pretty comfortable in your 'dungeon cell.' Would you like a serenade when the moon comes? Hope you will soon be up again, for we miss you very much. Shall be very happy to help in any way I can. Love to your mother. Your true friend,
“E.D.”
“Miss Pecq.
“Dear Madam,—I am happy to tell you that we are all well, and hope you are the same. I gave Jem Cox a licking because he went to your desk. You had better send for your books. You won't have to pay for the sled or the fence. Jack says he will see to it. We have been having a spread over here. First-rate things. I wouldn't mind breaking a leg, if I had such good grub and no chores to do. No more now, from yours, with esteem,
“Joseph P. Flint”
Joe thought that an elegant epistle, having copied portions of it from the “Letter Writer,” and proudly read it off to the boys, who assured him that Jill would be much impressed.
“Now, Jack, hurry up and let us send the lot off, for we must go,” said Gus, as Frank put the letters in the basket, and the clatter of tea-things was heard below.
“I'm not going to show mine. It's private and you mustn't look,” answered Jack, patting down an envelope with such care that no one had a chance to peep.
But Joe had seen the little note copied, and while the others were at the window working the telegraph he caught up the original, carelessly thrust by Jack under the pillow, and read it aloud before any one knew what he was about.
“My Dear,—I wish I could send you some of my good times. As I can't, I send you much love, and I hope you will try and be patient as I am going to, for it was our fault, and we must not make a fuss now. Ain't mothers sweet? Mine is coming over to-morrow to see you and tell me how you are. This round thing is a kiss for good-night.
“Your Jack”
“Isn't that spoony? You'd better hide your face, I think. He's getting to be a regular mollycoddle, isn't he?” jeered Joe, as the boys laughed, and then grew sober, seeing Jack's head buried in the bedclothes, after sending a pillow at his tormentor.
It nearly hit Mrs. Minot, coming in with her patient's tea on a tray, and at sight of her the guests hurriedly took leave, Joe nearly tumbling downstairs to escape from Frank, who would have followed, if his mother had not said quickly, “Stay, and tell me what is the matter.”
“Only teasing Jack a bit. Don't be mad, old boy, Joe didn't mean any harm, and it was rather soft, now wasn't it?” asked Frank, trying to appease the wounded feelings of his brother.
“I charged you not to worry him. Those boys were too much for the poor dear, and I ought not to have left him,” said Mamma, as she vainly endeavored to find and caress the yellow head burrowed so far out of sight that nothing but one red ear was visible.
“He liked it, and we got on capitally till Joe roughed him about Jill. Ah, Joe's getting it now! I thought Gus and Ed would do that little job for me,” added Frank, running to the window as the sound of stifled cries and laughter reached him.
The red ear heard also, and Jack popped up his head to ask, with interest,—
“What are they doing to him?”
“Rolling him in the snow, and he's howling like fun.”
“Serves him right,” muttered Jack, with a frown. Then, as a wail arose suggestive of an unpleasant mixture of snow in the mouth and thumps on the back, he burst out laughing, and said, good-naturedly, “Go and stop them, Frank; I won't mind, only tell him it was a mean trick. Hurry! Gus is so strong he doesn't know how his pounding hurts.”
Off ran Frank, and Jack told his wrongs to his mother. She sympathized heartily, and saw no harm in the affectionate little note, which would please Jill, and help her to bear her trials patiently.
“It isn't silly to be fond of her, is it? She is so nice and funny, and tries to be good, and likes me, and I won't be ashamed of my friends, if folks do laugh,” protested Jack, with a rap of his teaspoon.
“No, dear, it is quite kind and proper, and I'd rather have you play with a merry little girl than with rough boys till you are big enough to hold your own,” answered Mamma, putting the cup to his lips that the reclining lad might take his broma without spilling.
“Pooh! I don't mean that; I'm strong enough now to take care of myself,” cried Jack, stoutly. “I can thrash Joe any day, if I like. Just look at my arm; there's muscle for you!” and up went a sleeve, to the great danger of overturning the tray, as the boy proudly displayed his biceps and expanded his chest, both of which were very fine for a lad of his years. “If I'd been on my legs, he wouldn't have dared to insult me, and it was cowardly to hit a fellow when he was down.”
Mrs. Minot wanted to laugh at Jack's indignation, but the bell rang, and she had to go and pull in the basket, much amused at the new game.
Burning to distinguish herself in the eyes of the big boys, Jill had sent over a tall, red flannel night-cap, which she had been making for some proposed Christmas plays, and added the
