“Here is a letter for you, Ernest,” he said. “I was passing the post-office just now when I was hailed by the postmaster, who asked me if I would take the letter to you. I didn’t know that you had any correspondents.”
“Nor I, Luke. I think it is the first letter I ever received. Whom can it be from?”
“From some one who knows you are here. It is post-marked St. Louis.”
“Well, I can easily discover who wrote it,” said Ernest, as he cut open the envelope with his penknife.
He turned at once to the signature, and exclaimed, in great surprise, “Why, it’s from Tom Burns.”
“The man who tried to rob the store?”
“Yes.”
“He has probably written to ask you for some money.”
“No, Luke, you are mistaken. I will read it to you.”
The letter started thus: