A
minute more, and he had finished the letter and laid it down without a
word.
"Thaddeus, ye don't mean--he didn't say--"
"Read it--I--I can't," choked the old man.
She reached slowly for the sheet of paper and spread it on the table
before her.
Dear Mother [Jehiel had written]: Just a word to tell you we are
all O. K. and doing finely. Your letter reminded me that it was about
time I was writing home to the old folks. I don't mean to let so many
weeks go by without a letter from me, but somehow the time just gets
away from me before I know it.
Minnie is well and deep in spring sewing and house-cleaning. I know--
because dressmaker's bills are beginning to come in, and every time I go
home I find a carpet up in a new place!
Our boy Fred is eighteen to-morrow. You'd be proud of him, I know, if
you could see him. Business is rushing. Glad to hear you're all right
and that father's rheumatism is on the gain.
As ever, your affectionate and dutiful son, JEHIEL
Oh, by the way--about that visit East. I reckon we'll have to call it
off this year. Too bad; but can't seem to see my way clear.
Bye-bye, J.
Harriet Clayton did not cry this time. She stared at the letter long
minutes with wide-open, tearless eyes, then she slowly folded it and put
it back in its envelope.
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