And moo and moo, and moo, and moo,
In hopes I may be heard by you.
And if I were not so forlorn,
I think I'd try to blow my horn.
Oh, come back, Midget, come back now,
And cheer your lonely, waiting

Cow."

"Now, that's a first-class letter," declared Uncle Steve. "I
always thought that cow was a poet. She looks so romantic when she
gazes out over the bars. You ought to be pleased, Marjorie, that
you have such loving friends at Haslemere."

"Pleased! I'm tickled to death! I never had letters that I liked
so well. And just think, I have three left yet that I haven't
opened. I wonder who they can be from."

"When you wonder a thing like that, it always seems to me a good
idea to open them and find out."

"I just do believe I will! Why, this one," and Marjorie hastily
tore open another letter, "this one, Uncle, is from old Bet!"

"Betsy! That old horse! Well, she must have put on her spectacles
to see to write it. But I suppose when she saw Ned and Dick
writing, she didn't want them to get ahead of her, so she went to
work too. Well, do read it, I'm surely interested to hear old
Betsy's letter."