Marjorie's Vacation by Carolyn Wells


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Page 17




CHAPTER V

SOME INTERESTING LETTERS


The family for the paper-doll house was selected from the
catalogues that illustrate ready-made clothing. Beautiful
gentlemen were cut out, dressed in the most approved fashions for
men. Charming ladies with trailing skirts and elaborate hats were
found in plenty. And children of all ages were so numerous in the
prints that it was almost difficult to make a selection. Then,
too, extra hats and wraps and parasols were cut out, which could
be neatly put away in the cupboards and wardrobes which were in
the house. For Marjorie had discovered that by pasting only the
edges of the wardrobe and carefully cutting the doors apart, they
could be made to open and shut beautifully.

Uncle Steve became very much interested in these wonderful houses,
and ransacked his own library for pictures to be cut up.

Indeed, so elaborate did the houses grow to be, Molly's being
greatly enlarged and improved, that they could not be finished in
one morning.

But Grandma was not willing to let Marjorie work steadily at this
occupation all day, and after dinner Molly was sent home, and the
paper dolls put away until the next day.

"But I'm not ill, Grandma," said Marjorie; "just having a sprained
ankle doesn't make me a really, truly invalid."

"No, but you must rest, or you will get ill. Fever may set in, and
if you get over-excited with your play, and have no exercise, you
may be in bed longer than you think for. Besides, I think I
remember having heard something about implicit obedience, and so I
expect it now as well as when you're up on your two feet."

"I don't think I can help obeying," said Marjorie, roguishly, "for
I can't very well do anything else. But I suppose you mean obey
without fretting; so I will, for you are a dear, good Grandma and
awfully kind to me."

With a parting pat on her shoulder, Grandma left the little girl
for her afternoon nap, and Marjorie would have been surprised at
herself had she known how quickly she fell asleep.

Uncle Steve made it a habit to entertain her during the later
hours of each afternoon, and, although they were already great
chums, his gayety and kindness made Marjorie more than ever
devoted to her uncle.

This afternoon he came in with a handful of letters.

"These are all for you," he said; "it is astonishing what a large
correspondence you have."

Marjorie was amazed. She took the budget of letters her uncle
handed her and counted five. They were all duly stamped, and all
were postmarked, but the postmarks all read Haslemere.

"How funny!" exclaimed Marjorie; "I didn't know there was a post
office at Haslemere."

"You didn't!" exclaimed Uncle Steve; "why, there certainly is. Do
you mean to say that you don't know that there's a little post
office in the lowest branch of that old maple-tree down by the
brook?"

"You mean just where the path turns to go to the garden?"

"That's the very spot. Only this morning I was walking by there,
and I saw a small post office in the tree. There was a key in the
door of it, and being curious, I opened it, and looked in. There I
saw five letters for you, and as you're not walking much this
summer, I thought I'd bring them to you. I brought the key, too."

As he finished speaking, Uncle Steve drew from his pocket a little
bright key hung on a blue ribbon, which he gravely presented to
Marjorie. Her eyes danced as she took it, for she now believed
there was really a post office there, though it was sometimes
difficult to distinguish Uncle Steve's nonsense from the truth.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sat 20th Dec 2025, 11:11