"I guess if you're goin' to wonder out loud, Ma, you'll have to do it later. I got to get this job off'n my hands right now, an' between you an' me an' the lamp-post, I ain't so flip with my pen an' ink, I can do much of anythin' fancy, while you wait. I got to take my time at it. It's the hardest stunt I know of. Firstoff, you got to have somethin' to write about, an' then, before you're fairly ready to put it down—what with delays, owin' to spellin', blots an' so forth—it's got away from you, an' you have to think up somethin' else in its place. While you're doin' that the next idea gets away, so you're left, whatever way you look at it. Now, 'silence in the court-house,' as Sammy says."
Ma would have given all she was worth to discover what it was that, for the next couple of hours or so, Martha was so painfully employed upon. She did her best to find out, but though she craned her neck, ducked her head, peeked and peered, it was no use. A substantial elbow curved around the paper, effectually shielding it from inquisitive eyes.
Dere doct. Ballad you will be supprised to here I am home again but that is wear I am for Miss Clare is well enough now to spair me and the baby is doing fine in spite of the nurses witch says she will live now witch I thank them kindly wen her two cheeks is getting as pink as roses and round besides so a blind man could see it and never a cry out of her the hole day long the lamb or night either except wen neccery. Mr. F. Ronald would not call the quean his cousin him and miss Kathrine is bizzy getting a party from the city to come and give a corse of leckchers to show the natives off of lantren slides what there bodies maid out of and how there jerms looks wen you see them on a sheet verry much unlarged. miss katrine hopes seeing what the licker does to his jerms will scair Buller off the drink annyhow he ain't drunk much as ushal becaus he has bin driving her round in his backboard witch he is verry proud of besides he has not the time wen he is doing it. Wile i bean away Hireram parkinsin got meezils if this dont intrust you madam Crew is verry well but her and Miss Kathrin is still on the outs why i do not no Miss Kathrine was getting verry thin and wite when you left she got going to Mr. F. Ronaldses now she looks better do not think that is becaus ennything accepting the corse of leckchers. MEN is necherly jellys pardon the libberty but believe me miss Kathrin is trew blew like if she got found of any party once would not change to get found of any other party no matter how plutonic as a gent leman i once lived out with his wife Mr. Grandvil lately maid to a judg told me witch I just looked it up in the dickshunnery for the speling and it ain't what he told me it was a tall but relating to regions of fire insted of cool like you feel for your relations. Buller is heeling alrite so I no he is clean I told him his hole arm would go if he did not let up on the drink i will let you no if he lets up I will let you no if Madam crew and Miss Kathreen lets up all so enny more i think will intrust you I know what was in your hart wen you asked me so will rite as orphan as I can and no other soul will knew you can count on me. Love to all Yours
trewly Martha Slawson.
The writing of the letter in itself might not have excited any undue suspicion in Ma. Once in a long time Martha did actually "sit down to take her pen in hand" to write to one of the relations, though usually it was Cora who was offered up on the altar of family concord. But to-day "me son Sammy's wife's" conduct was exceptional. She wrote and rewrote, erased, tore up, until, Ma cogitated, "It's fairly a caution, an' out of all sensibleness, the way she does be destroyin' perfectly good paper."
Also,
"It'd surely be a stranger she'd be after wastin' all that time an' ink on, for not one of her own at all would ever be for gettin' the like of it." The next logical step in the shrewd deduction was—"Who is the stranger?"
Ma watched the little Mont Blanc at Martha's elbow grow, until finally it coasted, like a tiny avalanche to the floor. She watched her daughter-in-law stoop, abstractedly gather up the fragments and stuff them into her apron pocket.
When the great task was done, she saw the mysterious letter, artfully resisting, obliged at last to yield to main force, and go into its envelope whether it would or no. Saw it sealed, saw it stamped, saw it directed, saw it triumphantly carried, by Martha's own hand, to the R.F.D. mail-box, though Ma insisted "one of the childern could go just as good, an' save you the steps, itself."
When Martha returned from her errand she found Mrs. Peckett in possession of Sam's chair by the table.