The fair weather had finally forsaken them, but though the wind whistled round the corners of Rosewood Cottage, all was snug within. “... x, y, and zed,” Jane pronounced slowly from the little book before her. “Very good,” Marianne smiled. “You and Becky must practice during the week to come, and then I will show you how all of these letters are put together into words and stories.” Jane sighed and looked up at her soulfully. “Must we be waitin’ till next time for a story?” Marianne smiled. “I have sent for some story books,” she explained, “but they have not arrived yet. Perhaps, however, I can remember one from my nursery days.” “A story right out of your own head?” Jane asked, her eyes wide. “Yes, right out of my own head— we will hope it does not suffer in the translation.” How quickly these two had taken to her, trusted her— rather like the kittens, she realized, Dr.
