I have kept my best news to the last, which is that Deniston has
at last given way, and we are to move into town in October. We
have taken a little house in West Cedar Street. It is quite
small and very dingy and I presume inconvenient, but I already
love it to distraction, and feel as if I should sit up all night
for the first month to enjoy the sensation of being no longer
that horrid thing, a resident of the suburbs. I hunt the paper
shops and collect samples of odd and occult pattern, and compare
them with carpets, and am altogether in my element, only longing
for the time to come when I may put together my pots and pans
and betake me across the mill-dam. Meantime, Roslein is living
in a state of quarantine. She is not permitted to speak with any
other children, or even to look out of window at one, for fear
she may contract some sort of contagious disease, and spoil our
beautiful visit to Burnet. She sends you a kiss, and so do I;
and mother and Sylvia and Deniston and grandmamma, particularly,
desire their love.


Your loving

ROSE RED.

"Oh," cried Clover, catching Katy round the waist, and waltzing wildly
about the room, "what a delicious letter! What fun we are going to have!
It seems too good to be true. Tum-ti-ti, tum-ti-ti. Keep step, Katy. I
forgive you for the first time for getting married. I never did before,
really and truly. Tum-ti-ti; I am so happy that I must dance!"