Jessamy's round left shoulder gave a little shrug of indifference. "Coffee, Moffat?" she asked.
"Sure Mike," said Moffat.
"Did he?" Selden's tones descended to the deep bass boom which marked certain moods.
"Oh, dear!" Jessamy complained good-naturedly. "What's the use? Can't you see the postmark and the cancelled stamp, Mr. Selden?"
Selden contemplated them. "Yes, I see 'em," he admitted; "I see 'em. But I thought, s' long's ye was with that young Drew fella today, he might 'a' saved his stamp and sent her to me by you."
"That being satisfactorily decided," chirped Jessamy, "let us now open the missive and learn what Mr. Drew has to communicate."
"Heaven's sake, Pap, open it and shut up!" growled Moffat, his mouth full of potato.
"I'll take a quirt to you if ye tell me to shut up ag'in!" thundered Selden.
Thereupon he tore the envelope and leaned out from his chair so that the light from a window flooded the single sheet which the envelope contained.
He read silently, slowly, craggy brows drawn down. His cold blue eyes widened, and the large nostrils of his pitted Bourbon nose spread angrily.