c and words?"

"No, you are quite wrong; and as I can't tell whether it is anything
good or bad, I may as well give it to you at once. It's from a girl, I
think," continued Will, as he took a letter from his pocket.

"A letter for me! Who can it be from? Yes, I see it comes from a girl by
the writing. What a pretty hand! ever so much better than mine; and here
is the post-mark--Busyborough; it must be from Cousin Julia," she said
as she turned the letter over.

Then she opened it and began to read, while her brothers stood by full
of interest, and saw a look of mingled wonder, surprise, and delight
spread over her face. They waited as long as their curiosity would
permit, and then both cried eagerly, "What does she say? What is it all
about?"

[Illustration]

"She wants me--that is, aunt has invited me--to spend my holidays with
them at the sea-side," said Ruth, speaking very slowly, and looking as
if she could hardly understand the idea of such a piece of good fortune
coming in her way. "But there," she added with a sigh, as she refolded
the letter and put it into her pocket and tried to banish the visions of
brightness it had called forth, "of course it is quite out of the
question. I couldn't go away now when every one is so busy."

She walked slowly back to the house, and tried not to think of the
bright dream of pleasure the letter had suggested; but this was not an
easy matter, as her father and mother were already sitting at the
tea-table talking over the same subject, for Mrs. Arnold had also
received a letter from Busyborough that afternoon.

CHAPTER II.

TALKING IT OVER.

"Have you read your cousin's letter, Ruth?" asked her mother as she took
her seat. "Why, what makes you look so unhappy?" she exclaimed,
observing the girl's grave face.

"It's very silly, I know, mother; and I didn't mean to be vexed about
it," she began, "but Julia said something about my going to the sea-side
with them to spend the holidays. Of course I know very well that you
couldn't spare me,--but I can't help crying--just a minute, mother, that
is all," said Ruth, while her tears dropped slowly.

"Don't cry, child; we'll talk it over to-night, and see what can be
done," said her father cheerfully.

"But, father!" cried Ruth, starting up in surprise, her tears quite
forgotten, "you don't think _really_ that there is any chance of my
going, do you? Just see how busy you are with the haying, and then there
are the