“If I had known what mail awaited little me,” said Cathalina, “I would not have been able to stay away so long before dinner.”
“But we had such a good time on the beach,” said Betty, opening her second letter. “I’m dying to know from whom that fattest letter came.”
“So am I,” added Lilian, mischievously. “I don’t seem to recognize the handwriting.”
Cathalina’s mouth curved into a smile as she read on. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you,” said she. “There is no secret. I didn’t recognize the writing, either, though _I’ve_ seen it often enough.”
“I know who it is, then,” said Betty—“Bob Paget, because he would write to Phil.”
“Go to the head, Betty. It’s Bob; such a nice, friendly letter! And he is telling me all about their doings at college, things I can’t pry out of Phil!”
“Isn’t it funny about brothers?” remarked Betty, not expecting a reply.
“They won’t take time to write you in detail,” said Lilian, “and when you are with them at home it is old to them. But we used to hear some good tales from Dick.”
“Yes, we do, too,” acknowledged Cathalina, “but Phil never took the pains to write me a long letter like this.”
“Of course not,” said Betty. “But look at that long one that Lilian has. _I’m_ perfectly sure that it is from Mr. Philip Van Buskirk, Junior.”
Lilian began on another sheet, putting out her hand in protest at Betty.
“Shh-sh, girls,” immediately said Betty; “it’s getting serious. She can’t be interrupted!”
“You crazy Betty,” exclaimed Lilian, turning a laughing face on the girls. “Hilary, come to the rescue!” But Hilary was deep in a letter of her own and looked up upon hearing her name with such a dazed expression that Cathalina and Betty were all the more amused.
“Can’t you see, Lilian, that Hilary doesn’t even know what we are talking about. She is back on the shores of the blue Kennebec with Campbell. Probably the boys all decided to get their letters written up and went at it at the same time.”
“That was it,” said Cathalina. “I can just see Bob coming in and hear him say, ‘Writing letters to the girls, boys? _I’ll_ have to write to poor Cathalina.’”
“That is a very fine theory, Miss Van Buskirk!” said Betty, opening a letter from home.
“Wait till you get a letter from Donald,” said Cathalina. “Then we’ll see what remarks the rest of us can make.”