Dear Aunt Verena,—I was awfully sorry to hear about your accident. The French mistress has had one too, she went to London and was knocked down by a taxi and has been in bed ever since. We were glad about her, but I am sorry about you. It will be horrid not to see you at Christmas. I am going to prepare a great surprise to cheer you while you are ill but I mustn’t tell you any more about it now as it is a terrific secret. Miss Arnott is reading Nicholas Nickleby to us, it is very nice. I like John Browdie, don’t you? But I think the actors are the best, Mr. Folair and Mr. Lenville and the Infant Phenomenon. We acted The Tempest the other day, I was Ariel. It isn’t fair in a charade, is it, to divide a word like “Shadow” into “shay” and “dough.” It ought to be “shad” and “owe” or “Oh!” oughtn’t it? Do answer this, because I want to confound some of the other girls. I will get the surprise ready as soon as possible, but there are others in it too and we must have time.—I am, your affectionate niece,
Evangeline
P.S.—Of course if you are not well enough to write, you mustn’t bother about shadow. I can ask some one else.