“There's only one thing to do,” the housekeeper reflected, closing her thin lips tightly.
She lit the gas jet in her chamber, and, without a trace of compunction, held the letter in the flame until it was thoroughly consumed.
CHAPTER XXXII — HOPE DEFERRED
Day after day Herbert and Abner went to the post office and inquired for letters, but alas! none came. Poor Herbert was in despair. He thought his father would have instantly sent the money, or come out himself to take him home. Was it possible his father had forgotten him, or was indifferent to his absence? He could not believe it, but what was he to think?
“I reckon your father didn't get the letter,” suggested Abner.
Herbert hailed this suggestion with relief.
“Or, maybe, marm has told the postmaster to give her any letters that come.”
This suggestion, too, seemed not improbable.
“What can we do?” asked Herbert, helplessly. “I reckon we'd better run away.”