She 's had a very hard life . Mrs. Plunkett told me all about her one day . I do n't think we should mind her biting little speeches and sharp looks . And anyway , even if she is really as disagreeable as she sometimes seems to be , why , it must make it all the harder for her , do n't you think ? So she needs a letter most of all . I 'll write to her , since it 's my suggestion . We 'll draw lots for the others . '' Besides Miss Marshall , the new music teacher fell to Cyrilla 's share . Mary drew Mrs. Plunkett and the dressmaker , and Carol drew Mrs. Johnson and old Mr. Grant . For the next two hours the girls wrote busily , forgetting all about the rainy day , and enjoying their epistolary labours to the full . It was dusk when all the letters were finished . `` Why , has n't the afternoon gone quickly after all ! '' exclaimed Carol . `` I just let my pen run on and jotted down any good working idea that came into my head . Cyrilla Blair , that big fat letter is never for Miss Marshall ! What on earth did you find to write her ? '' `` It was n't so hard when I got fairly started , '' said Cyrilla , smiling . `` Now , let 's hunt up Nora Jane and send the letters around so that everybody can read his or hers before tea-time . We should have a choice assortment of smiles at the table instead of all those frowns and sighs we had at dinner . '' Miss Emily Marshall was at that moment sitting in her little back room , all alone in the dusk , with the rain splashing drearily against the windowpanes outside .
Miss Marshall was feeling as lonely and dreary as she looked -- and as she had often felt in her life XXXXX sixty years .
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