ed so much we certainly need some
exercise. Miss Summers looks positively worn out with mirth. By the time
we get back, the postman and expressman may have visited us again, and I
am sure the minutes will pass more quickly for each of us impatient
children if we are busy doing something. My box from home isn't here
yet, and I am as eager as you are to see what my nieces and nephews have
sent me."

"A walk is just what I need to work off my surplus energy," declared
Tabitha enthusiastically. "May we take some crackers to feed the swans?"

"And oh, may I take my kodak, my spandy new Christmas kodak, for some
pictures?" asked Grace eagerly. "I will snap you the very first one if
you will say yes."

"That is quite an inducement," laughed Miss Pomeroy. "Of course you may
take all the crackers you wish and as many kodaks as you possess."

So thus armed, a merry eight left Ivy Hall a few moments later and
tramped gayly away to the park.

Upon their return, as the principal had predicted, they found the
reception hall table loaded down with letters and parcels from the mail,
while several express packages lay piled in a heap on the floor.

"Oh, Miss Pomeroy," shouted Carrie, reaching the bundles first and
eagerly scanning the addresses. "Here is yours all right, and it is
heavy as lead. This one is addressed to Grace; here is mine from
Grandma; that is for Bertha; the big box is Pussy's, and so is this
little fellow, and the other box is addressed to you and me together
from papa. Here's a heap of letters. You can distribute them, Vera; I am
too excited. Where is the hammer?"

"Not so fast, not so fast!" laughed Miss Pomeroy. "John will open these
boxes and carry them up to your rooms where you can unpack them all by
yourselves. Take your mail and scamper!" She shooed the capering girls
up the wide stairway, where they were followed very shortly by the
smiling John, bearing their new cargo of gifts.

"Oh, John, hurry, hurry!" coaxed Carrie, skipping about in a fever of
impatience. "I can't wait. Who is yours from, Puss? Tom?"

"No; it isn't his writing, anyway. There is a little package from him
and a letter--but--the big box is--from Reno, too."

"Why don't you open it and see who sent it?" asked Chrystobel, busy
herself with a big home box.

"I will as soon as I investigate the things Mrs. Vane sent me. Aren't
they pretty? A glove box with two pair of gloves in it. The hair-ribbons
are from Mrs. McKittrick; but t