"My dear child, she is old, and though she is not poor, she thinks she is, which is almost as bad. If I can brighten her cheerless life in any way, I am glad to do so."
About one o'clock a knock was heard at the door. Mrs. Mason answered it in person, and to her surprise found in the caller a brisk-looking young man, with an intelligent face. He had a note-book in his hand.
"Is this Mrs. Mason?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir."
"Your son is a telegraph boy?"
"Yes."
"No. 79?"
"Yes, sir. Has anything happened to him?" she asked in quick alarm.
"I bring no bad news," answered the young man with a smile. "Have you a photograph or even a tintype of your son, recently taken?"
"I have a tintype taken last summer at Coney Island."