"But I am proud of you! It's been worth the grind, hasn't it?"
"Rather! Though I'm yearning for the holidays. Shall we go to Chagmouth
on Saturday?"
"Oh, yes! Bevis breaks up to-morrow, and I expect he'll be at Grimbal's
Farm by then. It's his last term at school as well as mine. I wonder how
he feels about leaving? I promised, too, to call and see the Castletons."
When the girls reached home, there was a letter on the table for Mavis in
Clive's handwriting. They heard from the boy every now and then, though
he was not a particularly good correspondent. This epistle, which had
apparently been penned on Sunday, was mostly a summary of cricket and
anticipations of his holidays. It ended:
Your affec'ate coz, CLIVE.
_P.S._--Meant to send you this snap before. Isn't it priceless?
The sting of a scorpion is in its tail. Mavis stooped down and picked up
the little photo which had fallen from the envelope on to the floor.
Clive had used his Brownie camera at Chagmouth and had promised to post
them the results, but had forgotten.
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