“How easy you write!” said Abner, in wonder, as he saw Herbert's letter growing long before his eyes. “It would take me a week to write as long a letter as that, and then I couldn't do it.”
“I can't write so easy generally,” said the little boy, “but, you see, I have a good deal to write about.”
“Then there's another thing,” said Abner. “I shouldn't know how to spell so many words. You must be an awful good scholar.”
“I always liked to study,” said Herbert. “Don't you like to read and study?”
“No; I'd rather play ball or go fishin', wouldn't you?”
“I like to play part of the time, but I wouldn't like to grow up ignorant.”
“I expect I'll always be a know-nothin', but I reckon I know as much as dad. The old man's awful ignorant. He don't care for nothin' but whisky.”
“And I hope you won't be like him in that, Abner.”
“No, I won't. I wouldn't like to have the boys flingin' stones at me, as they did at dad once when he was tight. I licked a couple of 'em.”
Mrs. Estabrook read Herbert's letter with intense interest. She saw that the little boy's testimony would seriously incriminate Willis Ford, if he were recovered, as he would be if this letter came into his father's hands.