"Well, the letter was for you, whether you got it or not," said Joel Blarcomb bluntly. He did not like James Talbot any more than did many others in the little town. All who had had dealings with Robert's step-father had found him mean to the last degree.
"Perhaps he has forgotten to give it to me," said Mrs. Talbot, and abruptly left the store. Joel Blarcomb gazed after her pityingly.
"She didn't make no happy match an' I know it," he muttered. "That Talbot aint half the man Frost was."
Arriving at home, Mrs. Talbot at once sought out her husband.
"James, where is the letter Mr. Blarcomb gave you for me?" she demanded.
"The letter?" he said carelessly. "Why—er—that didn't amount to anything."
"Did you open it?"
"Yes—by mistake. It was only an advertisement from a Chicago investment company. The men who run it are little better than swindlers and I don't want you to have anything to do with them."
Mrs. Talbot's heart sank. The letter was not from Robert after all.