"Write it out and let me see," said Shelley. So Laddie wrote it, and she looked at it a long time, it seemed to me, at last she said: "I don't like that 'get.' It doesn't sound right. Wouldn't 'are' be better?" "Come when you are ready," repeated Laddie. "Yes, that's better. 'Get' sounds rather saucy." "Why not put it, 'Come when you choose?'" suggested mother. "That will leave a word to spare, so it won't look as if you had counted them and used exactly ten on purpose, and it doesn't sound as if you expected him to make long preparations, like the other. That will leave it with him to start whenever he likes." "Yes! yes!" cried Shelley. "That's much better! Say, 'Come when you choose!'" "Right!" said Laddie as he wrote it. "Now I'll take this!" "Oh no you won't!" cried Leon. "Father told me to saddle my horse. She's got enough speed in her to beat yours a mile. I take that! Didn't you say for me to saddle, father?" "Such important business, I think I better," said Laddie, and Leon began to cry. "I think you should both go," said Shelley. "It is so important, and if one goes to make a mistake, maybe the other will notice it." "Yes, that's the best way," said mother. "Yes, both go," said father. It was like one streak when they went up the Big Hill. Father shook his head. "Poor judgment--that," he said. "Never run a horse up hill!" "But they're in such a hurry," Shelley reminded him. "So they are," said father. "In this case I might have broken the rule myself. Now come all of you, and let the child get at her mail." "But I want you to stay," said Shelley. "I'm so addle-pated this morning. I need my family to help me." "Of course you do, child," said mother. "Families were made to cling together, and stand by each other in every circumstance of life--joy or sorrow. Of course you need your family." May began sorting the letters by dates so Shelley could start on the one that had been written first. Father ran his knife across the top of each, and cut all the envelopes, and Shelley took out the first and read it; that was the train one. In it he told her about sending the boy with the note again, and explained more about how it was so very important for him to hurry, because the only man who could help him was so sick. We talked it over, and all of us thought the boy had kept the money and torn up the note. Father said the way would have been to send the note and pay the boy when he came back; but Shelley said Mr. Paget would have been gone before the boy got back, so father saw that wouldn't have been the way, in such a case.