The girl stood his stare for a moment, then impatiently said, “Why don’t you read it?”
And Sam read: “The item is headed, ‘A Bottle Picked Up at Sea. As the bar tug Hercules was cruising beyond the bar, farther out than usual, last Tuesday, Captain Patterson espied a bottle bobbing about in the wash of a swell and picked it up. On being opened, it was found to contain a sealed message to a young Portland woman, with instructions for the finder please to deliver at once.
“‘The bottle had been cast overboard September 15th, from the British bark Lochlobin, two days out, bound for Sydney.’”
Expressions of wonder and speculation from the young ladies were scarcely ended when a messenger boy was seen approaching. At the foot of the piazza steps he produced two letters and, tipping his cap to the group above, enquired for Miss Hazel Brooke.
Yes—a message from the deep.
He delivered one of the letters which he held in his hand to Hazel, and then said: “The other letter is for Miss Virginia Thorpe,” which the housekeeper at Mr. Thorpe’s home, where he had first enquired for Miss Brooke, had asked him to deliver at Rosemont, too.
The boy touched his cap respectfully and left. Sam accompanied him a short distance, and slipped a gold piece into his hand. The boy thanked him, and took his departure whistling.
Meanwhile Hazel opened the letter, and her eyes raced over the contents; then she fairly danced with joy.
“Oh, such good news, Virginia!” she exclaimed, without taking her eyes from the letter. “It’s from Joe. Poor Joe! He was sandbagged or shanghaied, whatever that is, but he is well now, on a ship bound for Australia, and will be home in about three months.”
But the glad message to one fell on the unreceptive ears of the other. Virginia had also opened the letter addressed to her. She had noted the bold letters and familiar writing, glanced at the postmark, and noted its date; dated at Portland over two weeks past; but, undeterred save by a slight fluttering at her heart, she read: