“No, sir; I have not dared to write, for fear the letter might be seen by Mr. Brackett or his wife.”
“You shall have an opportunity of writing from Jefferson. We will drive directly to the hotel and put up our team. You can write your letter in the hotel while I am out attending to my business.”
Andy was very glad of this permission, for he knew that his mother would feel anxious till she had heard of his safe arrival.
When the team was disposed of, Andy entered the hotel office.
Jefferson was the shire town of the county, and was therefore at times the resort of a considerable number of visitors. For this reason it required and possessed a very commodious hotel.
At the desk Andy saw a pleasant-looking boy of about his own age, whose name, as he afterward learned, was George Tierney. The boy looked social and friendly, and he addressed him.
“Can you let me have a sheet of paper and an envelope?” he asked.
“Certainly,” said George, briskly. “Do you want to write a letter?”
“Yes, I should like to do so.”
“You will find a table and ink in there,” said George, pointing to a small room leading from the office. “Of course you will want a postage stamp.”