"No, but a letter may come from Canada."
"Whew!" he ejaculated. "Let me see—G— isn't it?"
They were sorting letters in the small room, and laying the piles on the floor.
"Denby," said my friend, "and John Gaynor."
"Here's a Gaynor, but it's a woman. Oh, yes, care of John, twenty cents postage."
You could not always pay postage through and no one made it a matter of compliment in those days. I had a quarter and some pennies beside.
"Here, I'll make change," he said, and I thanked him most sincerely. He smiled and nodded as I stepped out of the line and ran swiftly home. Norman had said the next letter would be all to myself.
It went in the great fire with hundreds of other choice treasures, but oh, what a delight it was to me! I had looked at the flag token in the morning, so I had not gone to school. Joe was playing about the door step, emulating the old monarch by eating grass. M'liss was washing out under the apple-tree, so I slipped into the room and threw my sunbonnet on the floor.
There were no envelopes, no dainty sheets of paper. This was "foolscap," written on three sides, and little spaces rescued on the fourth. Ah! what a delight it was. So much about the historic old city, the French residents, the English officers, the government and business, the picturesque houses with their pathetic stories. Norman could talk French almost like a native. And the business! Chicago would be amazed at the volume of it.
There was a great deal about Mr. Le Moyne, his kindly care, "almost as if I was a son," was the eager confession. The journeys they were taking about, the friends Mr. Le Moyne met, the charming and cultivated women, who played the piano and sang in the most delightful manner. It was like living in a story book. And he had to go everywhere, to do almost everything for Mr. Le Moyne, whose eyesight was poorer than ever. Presently when the business was all finished they would go to New York. And then he hoped to be able to come home. It seemed almost a lifetime to him.