Jack signed silently, and waited till the door closed behind the carrier.
“I don’t believe it’s fer me,” he said. “Who’d be sendin’ me a registered letter?”
“The best way to find out is to open it,” suggested Allan.
“Here, you open it,” said Jack, “an’ if it ain’t fer me, shut it up agin. I’ve heerd o’ people bein’ sent t’ jail fer openin’ letters that didn’t belong to ’em.”
“Very well,” assented Allan, and tore open the envelope and drew out the letter.
Jack noticed how his face changed and his hands trembled as he glanced through it.
“Put it back, boy,” he cried. “I knowed it wasn’t fer me. Put it back!”
“Yes, it is for you, Jack,” said Allan, looking up, his eyes bright with tears. Listen:
“‘Mr. John Welsh,
“’Wadsworth, Ohio.