She says we are quite old enough now to do them alone, and I suppose we
are. But we can't express ourselves in the same way time after time, and
it is so difficult to think of new things to say that are interesting
and not frivolous,--for aunt Lindsay wouldn't permit that. Sometimes we
really get low-spirited over our efforts, and I'd be ashamed to tell how
many sheets of paper and envelopes are spoilt in the undertaking. Once,
in a fit of desperation, Felix bought a "Complete Letter-Writer," and
we hunted through it; but there seemed to be nothing in it suitable
for an occasion such as ours, and besides, the language used in the
"Letter-Writer" was so very fine and unlike our former efforts that we
were afraid aunt Lindsay would, as Phil vulgarly puts it, "smell a
mice." So that had to be given up, and finally, after many and great
struggles, with the help of the whole family, we would manage to write
something that Miss Marston allowed us to send. On the principle that
brevity is wit, some of these productions of ours are really remarkable.
And now, though it was neither Christmas nor our birthday, here came two
letters from our godmother which would have to be answered.
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