“With money in it?” asked Jonas eagerly.
“I don't know.”
“If any such letter comes, will you give me some of the money?”
“If you bring me a letter containing money,” said Mrs. Brent, “I will give you a dollar.”
“Enough said!” exclaimed Jonas, who was fond of money; “I'm off to the post-office at once.”
Mrs. Brent let the work fall into her lap and looked intently before her. A flush appeared on her pale face, and she showed signs of restlessness.
“It is strange,” she said to herself, “how I have allowed myself to be affected by that dream. I am not superstitious, but I cannot get over the idea that a letter will reach me to-night, and that it will have an important bearing upon my life. I have a feeling, too, that it will relate to the boy Philip.”
She rose from her seat and began to move about the room. It was a relief to her in the restless state of her mind. She went to the window to look for Jonas, and her excitement rose as she saw him approaching. When he saw his mother looking from the window, he held aloft a letter.
“The letter has come,” she said, her heart beating faster than its wont. “It is an important letter. How slow Jonas is.”
And she was inclined to be vexed at the deliberation with which her son was advancing toward the house.