"You've said that ev'ry year for the last fifteen summers, an' they
hain't come yet. Jehiel went West more than twenty years ago, an' he's
never been home since. Why, Thaddeus, we've got a grandson 'most
eighteen, that we hain't even seen! Hannah Jane's been home jest once
since she was married, but that was nigh on ter sixteen years ago. She's
always writin' of her Tommy and Nellie, but--I want ter see 'em,
Thaddeus; I want ter see 'em!"
"Yes, yes; well, we'll ask 'em, Harriet, again--we'll ask 'em real
urgent--like, an' mebbe that'll fetch 'em," comforted the old man.
"We'll ask 'em ter be here the Fourth; that's eight weeks off yet, an' I
shall be real smart by then."
Two letters that were certainly "urgent-like" left the New England
farmhouse the next morning. One was addressed to a thriving Western
city, the other to Chattanooga, Tennessee.
In course of time the answers came. Hannah Jane's appeared first, and
was opened with shaking fingers.
Dear Mother [read Mrs. Clayton aloud]: Your letter came two or
three days ago, and I have hurried round to answer it, for you seemed to
be so anxious to hear. I'm real sorry, but I don't see how we can get
away this summer. Nathan is real busy at the store; and, some way, I
can't seem to get up energy enough to even think of fixing up the
children to take them so far.
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