Alonzo did not see fit to answer this, but walked away with his head in the air. He was, however, not quite easy in mind.
“How in the world,” he asked himself, “could that boy have found out that Uncle Oliver gave me a letter to post? If he should learn that I opened it and took the money, there'd be a big fuss. I guess I'd better not meet him again. If I see him any day I'll go in a different direction. He's so artful he may get me into trouble.”
It is needless to say that neither Mr. or Mrs. Pitkin knew of Alonzo's tampering with the letter. Much as they would have been opposed to Phil's receiving such a letter, they would have been too wise to sanction such a bold step.
“Well,” said Mr. Carter, when Phil returned, “did you see Rebecca—Mrs. Forbush?”
“Yes, sir, and handed her the money. She was overjoyed; not so much at receiving so generous a sum as at learning that you were reconciled to her.”
“Poor girl!” said the old man, forgetting that she was now a worn woman. “I am afraid that she must have suffered much.”
“She has met with many hardships, sir, but she won't mind them now.”
“If I live her future shall be brighter than her past. I will call to-morrow. You, Philip, shall go with me.”
“I should like to do so, sir. By the way, I met Alonzo on Broadway.”
He detailed the conversation that had taken place between them.