"He is the meanest boy in Milltown," said Ben.
"Doesn't he like you? Isn't he one of your friends?"
"No, he does all he can to injure me. But"—here Ben examined the letter a second time—"this isn't his handwriting."
"That proves nothing. He probably sent it to some confederate in Boston to copy and mail to you."
"Don't you think there is any chance of its being genuine?" asked Ben.
"The chance is very slight; but it is well, of course, to make sure. I have been away to pass Sunday, and shall go to the store at once on my arrival. You can go with me. I will introduce you to my uncle."
"If it is a trick," said Ben uncomfortably, "I shall be in an awkward fix."
"Whether it is a trick or not, you can count on my friendship," said young Porter kindly.
"Thank you," said Ben gratefully.
About an hour later Ben and his new friend entered the large and handsome bookstore of Jones & Porter.