The angry, threatening clouds had massed themselves once more; the
thunder roared; the lightning flashed and the rain fell in torrents.
Leopold walked to the window and looked out. "Walking is out of the
question," said he; "will you come for a sail?"
Music filled the evening, and during a lull in the storm the young men
reached their lodgings.
Another month had nearly passed. The weather was much warmer, but there
was a great incentive to hard work--the book was nearly finished. Quincy
had sent down a package of books soon after his return home, and Alice
and Rosa had worked even harder than in June.
Another letter went from Miss Very to Mr. Sawyer. It contained but a few
words: "The book is done. Miss Pettengill herself wrote the words, 'The
end,' on the last page, signed her name, and dated it 'July 30, 186--.'
She awaits your verdict."
The first Sunday in August found the young ladies again expectant. Once
more they sat on a Sunday morning awaiting the advent of their gentlemen
friends. The day was pleasant, but warm. Soon a voice was heard at the
front door.
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