"I don't see how you got so many," said Jasper, in admiration, his
fingers busy with the heap.
"Oh, I've picked 'em up here and there," said Tom. "I began because I
thought the kids at home might like 'em. And then it struck me I'd make
a book like yours."
"Well, do save them now," said Jasper, "and we'll give some of our
pictures, though the prettiest ones are in our books," he added
regretfully.
"Rather not--much obliged," Tom bobbed his thanks. "I want to donate
something to granddaddy, and I tell you I'm something awful at a
letter."
"All right, seeing you wish it so," said Jasper, with a keen look at
him, "and these are beauties and no mistake; we couldn't begin to equal
them."
When the letter was finally unrolled and read to Grandpapa, who strayed
into the reading room to see what Phronsie was doing, it certainly was
a beauty. Picture after picture, cut from railroad guide books,
illustrated papers, and it seemed to Jasper gathered as if by magic,
with cunning little photographs, broke up the letter, and wound in and
out with funny and charming detail of some of their journey.
"I wrote that all myself," hummed Phronsie, smoothing her gown, in
great satisfaction, pointing to the opening of the letter.
"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, softly, for she couldn't even yet get
over that dreadful beginning.
"The rest of it is nice," whispered Jasper, "and I venture to say,
he'll like that the best of all.
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