"How do you know it is from Uncle George?" asked his sister.
"How do I know, Polly? Why I've been down to the forge, and the postman gave this to father as he went back to work this afternoon."
Tom's father was the village blacksmith, a steady, hard-working man, who always had as much business as he could get through for the neighbouring farmers, but was ambitious for his eldest son Tom to be something better than a blacksmith.
So he had written to his brother in London, telling him what a fine scholar Tom was, and how they had sent him to the grammar school in the neighbouring town, in the hope that he might be able to get some employment in London, as he was altogether too clever for a mere village blacksmith.
His brother's first reply to this had not been encouraging, but a second letter had been sent at his wife's earnest request, and this was the reply to it.
Tom knew all about what it contained, but he would not tell the news until his mother had seen the letter, and he ran with it to find her. She was busy washing, but she took her hands out of the soapsuds and wiped them carefully when she heard about the letter, for she was most anxious for Tom to go to London and get a place in an office, where he might by-and-by rise to be a clerk, as his uncle had done.
Tom stood and rubbed his hands as his mother read the letter, for he knew she would feel pleased at the news it contained.
"What do you think of it, mother?" he asked at last, for he could not wait until she had finished reading it.
"Why you ought to be very much obliged to Uncle George for the trouble he has taken for you. Dick there, will never get such a chance, I am afraid."
Dick had followed Tom to the wash-house, and now looked eagerly from his brother to the letter in his mother's hand; but he did not ask the question that was on his lips.