For a minute he looked soberly at the letter, then with brightening cheeks, and ran downstairs. How thankful he was that the others were out!
"Aunt Ruth," he said, hesitating a little, "I have a letter here which I was to give you or not, as I considered best. It was a great honour to be charged with so much, but I think if I were in your place, I should like to see it."
He held out his hand, and it trembled. Aunt Ruth looked up earnestly. "Who is it from, Tom?"
"Some one you knew before your grand-papa died—some one who went abroad because—"
Tom choked. "You'll see what he says; it can't do any harm, and it may be a Christmas present for you, auntie!"
He caught up his books, and was gone before she could speak.
Presently—it seemed a good while to Tom in the cold—Aunt Ruth came to his door.
"Tom, dear," she said, with averted face, "how can I tell you how glad I am that you told me! God has been very good to me, and, indeed, His assurance which I trusted has come abundantly true, 'He careth for you.'"