She had never sent a telegram, nor had she even read one. She could not consult her mother because Mrs. Bennett had inconsiderately gone down town to do her marketing. Dr. Bennett, however, was a very busy man and sometimes received a number of important messages in one day. Mabel felt that the occasion justified her studying several late specimens which she resurrected from the waste-paper basket under her father's desk. These, however, proved rather unsatisfactory models since none of them seemed to exactly fit the existing emergency. Most of them, indeed, were in cipher.
"I suppose," said Mabel, nibbling her pen-holder thoughtfully, "they make 'em short so they'll fit these little sheets of yellow paper, but there's lots more space they might use if they didn't leave such wide margins. I'll write small so I can say all I want to, but dear me, I can't think of a thing to say."
It took a long time, but the message was
