But he came at last.
“Well, mother, I've got a letter—a letter from Philadelphia,” he said. “It isn't from Phil, for I know his writing.”
“Give it to me, Jonas,” said his mother, outwardly calm, but inwardly excited.
“Do you know any one in Philadelphia, mother?”
“No.”
She cut open the envelope and withdrew the inclosed sheet.
“Is there any money in it?” asked Jonas eagerly.
“No.”
“Just my luck!” said Jonas sullenly.
“Wait a minute,” said his mother. “If the letter is really important, I'll give you twenty-five cents.”