“By the way, Mary,” said the cooper, with a sudden thought, “I quite forgot that I have something for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes, from Mr. Merriam.”
“But he don't know me,” said Mrs. Crump, in surprise.
“At any rate, he asked me if I were married, and then handed me this envelope for you. I am not quite sure whether I ought to allow gentlemen to write letters to my wife.”
Mrs. Crump opened the envelope with considerable curiosity, and uttered an exclamation of surprise, as a bank-note fluttered to the carpet.
“By gracious, mother,” said Jack, springing to get it, “you're in luck. It's a hundred dollar bill.”
“So it is, I declare,” said Mrs. Crump, joyfully. “But, Timothy, it isn't mine. It belongs to you.”
“No, Mary, it shall be yours. I'll put it in the Savings Bank for you.”
“Merriam's a trump, and no mistake,” said Jack. “By the way, father, when you see him again, won't you just insinuate that you have a son? Ain't we in luck, Aunt Rachel?”