scribbling away."] "Now, dear, what is the use of our going to the post office when nobody knows our address and we never could possibly expect a letter!" "That is true," said Valerie, pensively.

"Rita, I'm beginning to think I'd like to have a letter.

I believe--believe that I'll write to--to somebody." "That is more than I'll do," yawned Rita, closing her eyes.

She opened them presently and said: "I've a nice little writing case in my trunk.

Sam presented it.