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Page 20
"Oh, come back quick,
Dear Mopsy Mop!
Then each small chick
Will gayly hop.
"We'll chirp with glee,
No more we'll weep;
Each chickadee
Will loudly peep."
"Well, that's certainly fine, Midget, for such little chickens. If
it were the old hen, now, I wouldn't be so surprised, for I see
her scratching on the ground every day. I suppose she's practising
her writing lesson, but I never yet have been able to read the
queer marks she makes. But these little yellow chickadees write
plainly enough, and I do think they are wonderfully clever."
"Yes, and isn't it funny that they can rhyme so well, too?"
"It is, indeed. I always said those Plymouth Rocks were the
smartest chickens of all, but I never suspected they could write
poetry."
"And now, Uncle, I've only one left." Marjorie looked regretfully
at the last letter, wishing there were a dozen more. "But I can
keep them and read them over and over again, I like them so much.
I'd answer them, but I don't believe those animals read as well as
they write."
"No," said Uncle Steve, wagging his head sagely, "I don't believe
they do. Well, read your last one, Mops, and let's see who wrote
it."
"Why, Uncle, it's from the dogs! It's signed 'Nero and Tray and
Rover'! Weren't they just darling to write to me! I believe I miss
the dogs more than anything else, because I can have Puffy up here
with me."
Marjorie paused long enough to cuddle the little heap of grey fur
that lay on the counterpane beside her, and then proceeded to read
the letter:
"Dear Mopsy Midget,
We're in a fidget,
Because we cannot find you;
We want to know
How you could go
And leave your dogs behind you!
"We bark and howl,
And snarl and yowl,
And growl the whole day long;
You are not here,
And, Mopsy dear,
We fear there's something wrong!
"We haven't heard;
Oh, send us word
Whatever is the matter!
Oh, hurry up
And cheer each pup
With laughter and gay chatter."
"That's a very nice letter," said Marjorie, as she folded it up
and returned it to its envelope. "And I do think the animals at
Haslemere are the most intelligent I have ever known. Uncle, I'm
going to send these letters all down home for King and Kitty to
read, and then they can send them back to me, for I'm going to
keep them all my life."
"I'll tell you a better plan than that, Midget. If you want the
children to read them, I'll make copies of them for you to send
home. And then I'll tell you what you might do, if you like. When
I go downtown I'll buy you a great big scrapbook, and then you can
paste these letters in, and as the summer goes on, you can paste
in all sorts of things; pressed leaves or flowers, pictures and
letters, and souvenirs of all sorts. Won't that be nice?"
"Uncle Steve, it will be perfectly lovely! You do have the
splendidest ideas! Will you get the book to-morrow?"
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