sat up to look.

"It's Jake," he announced, recognising the boy who had helped his father
with the ploughing.

"Hope he won't see us," said Betty, in a low tone, drawing in her head.
"We are not hurting anything, but maybe some of the church people
wouldn't like it, if they knew I climbed in at the window. They might
think it wasn't respectful."

"He's looking this way," said Davy, who had stood up for a better view,
but squatted down again at Betty's command.

[Illustration: "OH, RUN AND GET IT, QUICK, DAVY,' SHE CRIED."]

It was too late. Jake had recognised Davy's shock of yellow hair, and
called out, good-naturedly, "Hello, stickin'-plaster, where's Betty?
Somewhere around here, I'll bet anything, or you wouldn't be here.
I've got a letter for her."

At that, Betty leaned so far out of the window that she nearly lost her
balance and toppled over. "Oh, run and get it, quick, Davy," she cried.
The little bare feet twinkled through the grass to meet the old sorrel
horse, and two brown hands were held up to receive the letter; but Jake
preferred to deliver the important document himself.

"Here you are," he said, riding alongside the window and dropping the
letter into her eager hands.

"Oh, _thank_ you, Jake," she cried. "It makes me feel as if Christmas