“Is your name Tom Alson?” he asked, feeling in his coat pocket and drawing out a number of letters.
“Yes, sir,” he answered, his heart bounding with a hope he hardly dared to own.
“Well, then, I’ve a letter for you,” he said, selecting one from a number. He scanned it curiously for a few minutes, and then gave it to the boy, adding, “Can you read writing?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Tom; “I can read writing, and write myself. I am much obliged to you.”
“Not at all,” answered Mr. Sutherland, carelessly. “Do you know who wrote that direction?”
Tom looked at the letter which his fingers held so lovingly, and replied with a very bright face,
“Yes, sir—my teacher.”
“Is she white?” inquired the master.
“Oh yes, sir! She is a Northern lady.”
“Well, go off and enjoy your letter,” said Mr. Sutherland, dismissing him, and turning away pleased with the eager look of welcome the boy had given the letter.