“I’ll give her that sponge cake I made this morning,” said Felicity.  “I guess she doesn’t get sponge cake very often.”

“I’ve nothing but the rheumatism ring I got as a premium for selling needles last winter,” said Peter.  “I’ll give her that.  Even if she hasn’t got rheumatism it’s a real handsome ring.  It looks like solid gold.”

“I’ll give her a roll of peppermint candy,” said Felix.

“I’ll give one of those little jars of cherry preserve I made,” said Cecily.

“I won’t go near her,” quavered Sara Ray, “but I want to do something for Pat, and I’ll send that piece of apple leaf lace I knit last week.”

I decided to give the redoubtable Peg some apples from my birthday tree, and Dan declared he would give her a plug of tobacco.

“Oh, won’t she be insulted?” exclaimed Felix, rather horrified.

“Naw,” grinned Dan.  “Peg chews tobacco like a man.  She’d rather have it than your rubbishy peppermints, I can tell you.  I’ll run down to old Mrs. Sampson’s and get a plug.”

“Now, we must write the letter and take it and the presents to her right away, before it gets dark,” said the Story Girl.

We adjourned to the granary to indite the important document, which the Story Girl was to compose.

“How shall I begin it?” she asked in perplexity.  “It would never do to say, ‘Dear Peg,’ and ‘Dear Miss Bowen’ sounds too ridiculous.”

“Besides, nobody knows whether she is Miss Bowen or not,” said Felicity.  “She went to Boston when she grew up, and some say she was married there and her husband deserted her, and that’s why she went crazy.  If she’s married, she won’t like being called Miss.”

“Well, how am I to address her?” asked the Story Girl in despair.

Peter again came to the rescue with a practical suggestion.

“Begin it, ‘Respected Madam,’” he said.  “Ma has a letter a school trustee once writ to my Aunt Jane and that’s how it begins.”

“Respected Madam,” wrote the Story Girl.  “We want to ask a very great favour of you and we hope you will kindly grant it if you can.  Our favourite cat, Paddy, is very sick, and we are afraid he is going to die.  Do you think you could cure him?  And will you please try?  We are all so fond of him, and he is such a good cat, and has no bad habits.  Of course, if any of us tramps on his tail he will scratch us, but you know a cat can’t bear to have his tail tramped on.  It’s a very tender part of him, and it’s his only way of preventing it, and he doesn’t mean any harm.  If you can cure Paddy for us we will always be very, very grateful to you.  The accompanying small offerings are a testimonial of our respect and gratitude, and we entreat you to honour us by accepting them.

“Very respectfully yours,
“SARA STANLEY.”

“I tell you that last sentence has a fine sound,” said Peter admiringly.

“I didn’t make that up,” admitted the Story Girl honestly.  “I read it somewhere and remembered it.”