“It would be lonely, Aunt Rebecca; I’m afraid I’d be homesick often. But one winter isn’t long when it’s so near Christmas already--only seven weeks off! And if I was dreadfully homesick I suppose they’d let me come home. Don’t you think it must be wonderful in New York? Miss Bradley was there on her trip last summer; she told us about it in school. They have so many things, railroads in the air, and railroads down under the ground, and ferry-boats, and big churches, and parks of wild animals, and statues, and fishes in places where they keep them--all kinds, and buildings so high you get a crick in your neck looking up at them. Miss Bradley said we were to remember it was next biggest to London. Janie and I were crazy to go when Miss Bradley told our class about it. I think, even if I was a little homesick, I’d just love to go, Aunt Rebecca, if you don’t mind,” said truthful Beth. “Well, I suppose you have to go; I don’t suppose what I want has anything to do with it, nor homesickness either,” said Aunt Rebecca crisply. “I shall write and tell them to come after you on--let me see!--say the twentieth; that will be in about ten days from the time they get my letter. Your aunt says she prefers to buy your winter clothes there; I suppose she thinks you wouldn’t be fitted out here the way her children are; neither would you. I guess you’ll be one of those children you were talking about, who don’t wear aprons, this winter, Beth,” Aunt Rebecca ended with a laugh that did not sound amused. “I’ll wear them if you want me to just the same as if I was home!” cried Beth catching the note of regret in her great-aunt’s voice and generously responding to it. Then the magnificence of what had happened rushed over the little girl, almost overwhelming her. “Oh, it has come true, it has come true! And I thought it never could!” she cried. “It will be my make-believe land, and I’ll be in it, alive, really me, just Beth Bristead! Oh, I’ll write you, Aunt Rebecca, I truly will, though I de-spise writing, so you sha’n’t miss me! And I’ll come back so good you will be thankful, and I’ll remember everything you ever told me to do, and I won’t forget a single thing I see, so I’ll be better than newspapers next summer. Oh, Aunt Rebecca, to think such a little while ago when I was telling you about it we never thought it could come true, and now it has, it has! May I go right away and tell Janie Little that I’m going? What will she say! What will all the girls say! Oh, Aunt Rebecca, I think I’ll never live to get to New York, I’m so glad. It will be a wonder-winter!”