“They are a long time in rolling by. When did you hear from Ben last?”
“Not for two months.”
At that moment the postman’s whistle was heard, and Alvin ran down-stairs to meet him.
“Two letters, mother,” he said. “They are both for Frank.”
“Let me see the address.”
“One is in Ben’s handwriting,” said Frank, and he tore it open.
“Good news, mother!” he exclaimed in excitement. “Our fortune has come.”
“How’s that?”
“Edwin Harcourt died over a year since, and we come into an income of five thousand dollars. All your troubles are over, mother.”
“God be thanked, though I am sorry for the poor boy’s death. From whom is your other letter?”