Finding his perplexity only increase, John adopted a sensible resolution. He determined to lay the matter before some one who was older and wiser than himself, and be guided by his advice. He decided to write to Squire Selwyn, his father's lawyer and friend, who was already well acquainted with all the circumstances of the case, and ask his advice. If he should write at once, he calculated that an answer might reach him by the fourth day, and until then he thought he could endure Mr. Huxter's disagreeable manners. As to the will, he thought it more than probable that it would never be found, or, if found, it would never do him any good. If Mrs. Oakley would carry out his father's plans, permit him to continue his studies and go through college, he would then be able to make his own way, and would not trouble himself about the property.
While engaged in these reflections he had been slowly walking up the road towards the village. It was not much of a village, not more than twenty houses in all, including a church, a school-house, the tavern, and a store. Knowing something of the custom in country villages, John rightly concluded that the post-office would be found in the store. He entered therefore, and looked about him. It was a common country store, with a stock of a very miscellaneous assortment of articles, from sugar and dried apples to calico and tape. One corner was appropriated to the use of the post-office. John walked up to the counter and asked:—
"Have you any writing paper and envelopes?"
"Yes," said the clerk, producing the articles.
John bought two sheets of paper and two envelopes, thinking he might have occasion to write two letters, and then asked when the mail went out.
"It has already gone."
"When will the next mail go?"
"To-morrow morning."
"Will you allow me the use of your ink to write a letter?"