We read the letter over and over waiting for the next one and wondering about Tiger Lily.
There wasn"t any next one till most Thanksgiving. When it came at last it was d.i.c.ky"s letter just the same, but it was written in our Uncle Peter"s handwriting this time. It seemed funny. But perhaps the Lady"s hand was lame and she advertised for help.--Our Uncle Peter reads all the newspapers.
The letter was awful short. And there weren"t any quirks in it or anything. Just ink. This is what it said:
"Mutts:
Tiger Lily"s got nine puppies. We"re sleeping fine.
d.i.c.ky."
Our Mother looked at our Father. Our Father looked at our Mother. They both looked at the letter again.
"My brother Peter"s handwriting just as sure as you"re born!" said my Father.
"Of course it"s Peter"s writing," said our Mother. Her cheeks were quite pink. "Well of all the unexpected romances--" she said.
"Whose?" I said.
"Tiger Lily"s," said my Father. He seemed to be in an awful hurry to say it.
I looked at my Mother. Her eyes were shining.
"Is a--Is a "Romance" a something that you make a story out of?" I said.
"Yes it is," said my Mother.
I thought of my gold pencil.
"Oh, all right," I said, "when I get tall enough and more spelly I"ll make a little story about it."
"You already have!" said my Mother.