"Either Will carried that letter around in his pocket after writing it," said Mr. Ford, "or he dropped it in some obscure postoffice where their cancelling stamps are worn out and letters go only once a week or so. The letter was written on the night he left your house, evidently," he said to his brother, indicating the superscription. "I guess the mails down your way are not very certain, Isaac."
"Not always. Well, I'm glad the boy is all right. I tried to do my duty by him, as I promised I would, Jim."
"I know you did, Isaac, and I think this will be a lesson to him. I'll be glad to have him back, though. For I—I've missed him," and again Mr. Ford's voice faltered.
"So have I," said Grace, softly. "And this will make mamma's headache better. I'm going up to tell her."
"And we'll be going, now that you have good news," remarked Betty. "Wasn't it odd to get good and bad news so close together?"
"But the good came last—and that makes it the best," observed Amy with a smile.
Mr. Ford gave Grace her brother's letter to take up to her mother, while he and his brother prepared to go down town again, to finish transacting some business that had called the Southerner up North.
"And I guess I'd better telegraph Will some money while I am at it," his father said. "He writes that he has plenty of cash, but his idea of a lot of money is a few one dollar bills and a pocket full of change. I'll wire twenty-five dollars to him in Jacksonville to come home with."
"I'll be down in a minute, girls," called Grace, as she hurried up stairs to her mother's room. "Wait for me, and we'll talk about this Florida trip."
When Grace came down, having made her mother happy with her good news, she was eating chocolates.