Most of Master T. Smith's envelopes contained postal orders, some of them accompanied by lengthy epistles which blended heavy-handed patronage and treacly sentiment in equal proportions. Uncle Joseph read one or two aloud.
My dear little Tommy,—I feel that I must send you something in response to your little letter, which has touched me to the depths of my heart.
"Only five shillings," commented Uncle Joseph, referring to the postal order.
I hope your father is better, and will soon be about his parish work again. The expense of his illness must have been very great, and I cannot wonder that you should have overheard your mother crying in the night, when she thought you were all fast asleep. Perhaps it was wrong of you to write to me for help without consulting your parents; but, as you point out, it would, indeed, be a splendid surprise if you could go to your father's study with a little money in your hand and say:—"That is for household expenses, dear Father, from an anonymous well-wisher." I think it was clever of you to spell "anonymous" correctly.
"It was infernally silly of you," amended Uncle Joseph, looking up for a moment. "However:—
I feel therefore that I must fall in with your little plot. I am not allowed by law to send actual coin through the post, or you should have had a bright new five-shilling piece. [This woman ought to be put into a Home.] So I enclose what is called a postal order. If you sign your name on it and take it round to the nearest Post-Office, they will give you five shillings in exchange.
Do not apologise for your handwriting. I think it is quite good for a boy of ten. Give my love to your baby brother.
Your sincere friend,
Jane Roper.
P.S. I wonder how you heard of me.
"They all want to know that," grunted Uncle Joseph. "None of the silly creatures seem ever to have heard of directories."
Master Thomas Smith gravely signed the postal order which Uncle Joseph had pushed over to him, remarking that it was a good thing Miss Roper had not filled up the name of the post-office.
There were fifteen more letters in a very similar strain. They were not all read right through, but the name and address of the sender were always entered in the book and the postal orders were carefully extracted and filed.
Their total value was found to be seven pounds ten—this despite a disappointment caused by the last letter in the heap, which bore a small coronet on the back and promised a cheque at least. It ran:—