Two days more passed, and still no letter. Mrs. Raymond now become very anxious. She had about made up her mind to go up to the city herself, though she could ill spare the money needful for the trip, when she met Squire Turner in the street, on the way home from the post-office.
“Good-morning, Mrs. Raymond,” he said, graciously: “what do you hear from Harry? I am told he has gone to the city to seek his fortune.”
Mrs. Raymond was glad to have some one to whom she could impart her anxiety.
“I am feeling very anxious about him,” she said. “I received a letter from Harry four days ago, just after he reached New York, and I have heard nothing since.”
“No doubt he is very busy,” said the squire.
“He would not be too busy to write me a few lines. He would know that I should feel anxious,” said Mrs. Raymond.
“Don’t feel troubled, Mrs. Raymond. I know how it is with boys. They dislike writing letters. It was the way with me when I was a boy.”
She shook her head.