The old dear writes me every week, and her letters are wonderful, even outside of the spelling.

She hasn't lost a single illusion.

She has a soul for adventure, has Ma; she's hunting for caves now--keeps her ears open to hear if the ground sounds hollow; wants to find a mysterious cavern and explore it, with her heart in her mouth.
She revels in the clean, green foliage and the spring brooks.

She says the trees are awful crowded in places and there's no dust on them." "And Allie has a tutor!" "The best money could secure.

And, by the way, you wouldn't have known the girl after you got through with her that day.