"You're an odd girl; I'll get it you."
He went into the next room, returning with a letter in his hand.
"There!"
Mattie dashed at it in her impatience, and tore it into twenty pieces, which she thrust into the pocket of her dress, lest a fragment of the news should remain as evidence of Harriet Wesden's want of judgment.
"I say, my girl, that's not your letter, it's——"
"It's better torn to pieces. Harriet wished it, sir."
"She—she hasn't had a quarrel with my boy?"
"No, sir, to be sure not."
"I wonder how much longer he will be; there's—there's nothing further to break to an old man by degrees, Mattie?"
"Nothing further. I have a little news to tell you about myself, that I hope you'll be sorry to hear."