delivery letter awaiting them in the post-office.

"And I'm glad you called for it," said Harry Moss, whose duty it was
to deliver the blue stamped epistles, "for I've got a lot of 'em
this afternoon, and your place is out of my route, Miss Cora."

"All right, Harry," spoke Cora, half-hearing. She was already tearing
open the envelope, as the messenger rode off on his wheel, certainly
at a pace to justify the old proverb that he was a rolling stone,
even if he had already gathered moss.

"Is it from Walter?" asked Bess.

"Yes, and it isn't as bad as we feared. Jack over-trained, trying
for a new position on the football eleven, and that, with some extra
studies he undertook, reduced his already tingling nerves to a
condition where he was not at all himself."

"A long rest and a change will set him up again in fine style,"
Walter wrote. "There is no need worrying, Cora," for he had written
to her, rather than to Mrs. Kimball, relying on Cora's discretion to
explain matters.

"I am bringing Jack home, and we'll come on the early afternoon
train, Thursday. There is no great need of haste."

It was now Thursday, just after lunch, and the girls were waiting at
Cora's house to go down with her, or, rather one of them (to be
decided later) to meet Jack and Walter. There was no need of a
physician to help Jack home, though Dr. Blake promised his services