“He was just Bert’s age,” said Dollie, sorrowfully.
Marion dropped the paper and stared at her sister.
“Oh, Dollie, I have a scheme,” she cried, excitedly. “Quick! Open your typewriter and be ready to take a dictation. I’m going to play a trick on Matt Jenkins that will give Bert Jackson his freedom.”
CHAPTER XII.
A TERRIBLE SITUATION.
While Dollie was getting her machine in shape her sister composed the following letter.
“Mr. Matthew Jenkins, Poor Farm, Hickorytown, Conn.
“Dear Sir—A boy about sixteen was recently run over by a cable car in this city and killed. As he was unidentified within the regular time allowed by the city, he has been buried in Potter’s Field, the same as any other pauper. I have seen the garments left by the deceased and recognized them as belonging to one of your truant boys, one Bert Jackson, who was in my employ a few days after his arrival in this city. Knowing that the boy was your charge, I write this letter. It should relieve you of all anxiety regarding him in future.”
She signed the letter “John Johnson,” but appended no address. They could think whatever they pleased about the omission, it would make no difference in Matt Jenkins’ actions in the matter.
“He’ll be tickled to death,” said Dollie, grimly. “He’ll just be glad he is dead and that’s the last he’ll ever think of him.”