“Hello, Barb’ra!” shouted the little boy. “I came home from school, an’ you wasn’t here. An’ you can’t guess what I’ve got for you!”
The child’s face, glowing rosily with health and mischief, was uplifted to hers. She stooped and kissed it tenderly.
“What have you got for me, Jimmy?”
“Guess!”
“I can’t guess,” she answered soberly. “You’ll have to tell me.”
“You ain’t cross wiv me, are you, Barb’ra?”
“No, dear, of course I’m not. Why should I be cross? Why, it—it’s a letter! Where did you get it, Jimmy?”
“It’s the one I lost,” said the child, puckering up his chin disappointedly. “I fought you’d be glad. Peg found it. He said he ’membered the wind was blowin’ that day; so he looked all along the road on bof sides, an’ he found it right under a bush.”
Barbara hastily tore the sodden envelope apart. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the large stained sheet.