Marjorie and Jimmy came out on the porch then with their hands full of more mail that Pat had brought back when he went into town for Theresa and the Donahues.
“‘Lo,” said Jimmy. “Help us sort this out. Gobs came in today after the postman left.”
Jimmy sat down in one of the large, old-fashioned wicker chairs and Marjorie drew up a little footstool in front of him.
“Go ahead,” said Philip, “We’ll trust you and Marjorie to sort it all out and hand it over, won’t we, Penny?”
“Only too glad to have you do it,” replied Penny, slumping down in her chair and pretending to relax. “Only don’t take too long, if anything looks interesting,” she added.
Jimmy’s answer to that was to toss a flat letter into her lap, and to follow that closely with another slimmer one, carefully twirled by its corner to insure its falling at the proper distance.
“Oh, don’t, Jimmy,” protested Marjorie, over whose head the missives were hurled.
“That will keep her quiet, Marge,” Jimmy announced. But Penny was already quiet, not even hearing Jimmy’s last remark.
“You have the biggest pile, Phil,” Marjorie stated in a few moments.
The pile in front of Phil was falling over with letters, papers, advertisements and catalogues. The process of dividing the mail was soon completed and silence reigned except for giggles from Marjorie as she read a long letter from her best friend, Judy Powell. Penny, deeply engrossed in one of hers, gave a slight exclamation once, and Philip whistled as he laid aside a long envelope. But no one stopped to ask questions.
Penny looked at the absorbed group as she finished her last letter and smiled. Marjorie stopped reading her letters and looked off into space.
“Read me some of Judy’s letter, Marjorie,” said Penny.
Marjorie turned with a smile to say that it was such a good letter and so funny--“Judy wants to know by telegram when they can come.”
“She shall, Marjorie,” Philip answered immediately. “I’m thinking of getting a special telegram blank printed.”
Marjorie looked at Phil to see if he really meant such an idiotic thing; but as Phil only winked at her, she merely said, “Crazy!” and turned to Judy’s letter:
I think it’s simply tops that we can be together this summer. I was so afraid my parents would insist on sending me to camp again. Not that I don’t like camp, but I know it’s going to be so much more exciting to do things together, like exploring in the woods. Will we be allowed to go through the woods by ourselves? Are there secret cabins, or wonderful hiding places? Can we sleep out at night? I’ll bet it’s wonderful swimming in Lake Superior! Oh, couldn’t you telegraph and let me know right away when we can come? I have so many questions to ask, I don’t know where to begin.