The twins are very good most of the time. Your loving son, Robert Hayward Blossom.'"
"Will they know that's from you?" asked Meg doubtfully, slipping into the chair at the desk and taking up the pencil to print her letter, "You never call yourself Robert."
"I guess I know how to write a letter," Bobby informed her with dignity. "You always sign your real names to letters, don't you, Aunt Polly?"
"Yes, indeed, dear," said Aunt Polly, who was doing something to a pair of overalls.
Meg printed slowly and carefully, and soon her letter was ready to be read aloud.
"'Dear Daddy and Mother.'" she began proudly. "'We hope you are well. We are. Dot most wasn't, but I took care of her. She went out to the barn to hunt for eggs, and the turkey gobbler saw her. He thought she was carrying corn in the basket. He chased her and she ran. I heard her crying and I ran down to the barn. She was backed up into a corner and he was making noises at her. He is awful big,
