"I've got to keep clean now," said Tom soberly. "It seems kind of strange, but I guess I'll get used do it. When I look in the glass I don't hardly know myself."
"Don't you like it better?"
"Well, I guess I shall when I get used to it. But I forgot, I've got a message for you," and Tom drew out an official envelope.
"It must be from Mark," said Mrs. Mason in excitement, and she tore open the dispatch and read as follows:
Omaha, Sept. 17.
Shall be home on Friday. Mark.
"Mark will be home on Friday, Tom!" said the happy mother. "How glad I shall be!"
"Hurray!" exclaimed Tom. "That's good news."
"Come round and take dinner with us Sunday, Tom. We'll have a little feast in honor of Mark's return."
"I'll see, Mrs. Mason. I was engaged to take dinner with Jay Gould, but I'll telegraph him I can't come."
"I am afraid we can't give you as good a dinner as Jay Gould."