During one of those bright days Sadie came from school full of a new idea, and curled herself in front of Ester’s couch to entertain her with it.

“Mr. Hammond’s last,” she said.  “Such a curious idea, as like him as possible, and like nobody else.  You know that our class will graduate in just two years from this time, and there are fourteen of us, an even number, which is lucky for Mr. Hammond.  Well, we are each, don’t you think, to write a letter, as sensible, honest, and piquant as we can make it, historic, sentimental, poetic, or otherwise, as we please, so that it be the honest exponent of our views.  Then we are to make a grand exchange of letters among the class, and the young lady who receives my letter, for instance, is to keep it sealed, and under lock and key, until graduation day, when it is to be read before scholars, faculty, and trustees, and my full name announced as the signature; and all the rest of us are to perform in like manner.”

“What is supposed to be the object?” queried Abbie.

“Precisely the point which oppressed us, until Mr. Hammond complimented us by announcing that it was for the purpose of discovering how many of us, after making use of our highest skill in that line, could write a letter that after two years we should be willing to acknowledge as ours.”

Ester sat up flushed and eager.  “That is a very nice idea,” she said, brightly.  “I’m so glad you told me of it.  Sadie, I’ll write you a letter for that day.  I’ll write it to-morrow, and you are to keep it sealed until the evening of that day on which you graduate.  Then when you have come up to your room and are quite alone, you are to read it.  Will you promise, Sadie?”

But Sadie only laughed merrily, and said “You are growing sentimental, Ester, as sure is the world.  How can I make any such promise as that?  I shall probably chatter to you like a magpie instead of reading any thing.”

This young girl utterly ignored so far as was possible the fact of Ester’s illness, never allowing it to be admitted in her presence that there were any fears as to the result.  Ester had ceased trying to convince her, so now she only smiled quietly and repeated her petition.

“Will you promise, Sadie?”

“Oh yes, I’ll promise to go to the mountains of the moon on foot and alone, across lots—­any thing to amuse you.  You’re to be pitied, you see, until you get over this absurd habit of cuddling down among the pillows.”

So a few days thereafter she received with much apparent glee the dainty sealed letter addressed to herself, and dropped it in her writing-desk, but ere she turned the key there dropped a tear or two on the shining lid.

Well, as the long, hot summer days grew longer and fiercer, the invalid drooped and drooped, and the home faces grew sadder.  Yet there still came from time to time those rallying days, wherein Sadie confidently pronounced her to be improving rapidly.  And so it came to pass that so sweet was the final message that the words of the wonderful old poem proved a Siting description of it all.