"I don't care how he gets along, as long as he don't come back. There's plenty of better boys you can get."
Sam would not have felt flattered, if he had heard this final verdict upon his merits. It must be confessed, however, that it was well deserved.
A few days afterwards, the deacon obtained the services of another boy, whom he found more satisfactory than the runaway, and Sam was no longer missed. It was not till the tenth day that he learned of the theft. While riding on that day, he met Mr. Comstock, who had confided to Sam the money-letter.
"Good-morning, Deacon Hopkins," said he, stopping his horse.
"Good-morning," said the deacon.
"I suppose your boy handed you a letter from me."
"I haven't received any letter," said the deacon, surprised.
"It was early last week that I met a boy who said he lived with you. As I was in a hurry, I gave him a letter containing ten dollars, which I asked him to give to you."
"What day was it?" asked the deacon, eagerly.
"Monday. Do you mean to say he didn't give it to you?"