Neither Ballou nor Gaines would be satisfied until he had answered the child’s letter, as they termed Jess.
When he had gotten as far as addressing it, he was met by the fact that Jess had asked him to communicate his response to Mrs. Bryson, instead of herself; therefore he sent the following brief epistle to that worthy woman, whom he remembered, though very indistinctly, as having seen when he was taken on a visit to Blackheath Hall, as the place was called, many years ago, when he was a small lad of five years.
“It makes me feel rather ancient to remember that that was a quarter of a century ago,” he remarked, with a smile, as he looked over the brief epistle, which ran as follows:
“To Mrs. Bryson, Blackheath Hall, Greenville, Louisiana:
“My Dear Madam: After many years, I shall be again in your vicinity within the course of a fortnight. May I hope that your hospitality may be extended to me for a few days; I promise not to trespass upon you longer than that.
“With best wishes for the welfare of yourself and all the inmates of Blackheath Hall, I remain,
“Yours very truly,
“John Dinsmore.”
“Short, but to the point,” remarked Jerry Gaines, as John handed it to him wearily to fold up and place in the envelope.
An hour later the letter was duly on its way toward the sunny South, where it was destined to create such havoc in the old Louisiana home.