Mrs. Curtis was greatly affected the night following to hear the little boy thank God for helping Pat to be good and obey the commandments.
About a fortnight later, Whitefoot stopped at the village post office, and Bertie jumped from his carriage and ran in with a package of letters for the mail.
"Look here!" exclaimed the girl, who delivered letters. "Is this for you?"
The child glanced at it, laughing and blushing. It was a curious shaped epistle, almost square, without an envelope, the name being a rough imitation of printing, and spelled Birty Kertis, Oxford; care Squier Kertis.
"I think it must be intended for you," said the girl, with an arch glance. "It is post-marked Lexington."
"Oh, yes, it's mine!" exclaimed the boy. "It's from Pat Riley, I guess he wrote it himself."
It was indeed from Patrick. I do not think my readers could decipher it, if I copied the curious spelling, I shall, therefore, give it as Mrs. Curtis, after considerable study, read it to Bertie.
"Dear Friend:—There's a big boy here as knows how to write tip-top. I and Tip (that's his name) are the most popular boys in school. He's agreed to write this letter for me, 'cause I want ye to know how I'm getting on; and there's something I want to tell ye awful bad, 'cause I know ye'll like it. You was the first one that ever spoke encouraging to me, and I'll never forget it of ye as long as I know myself, nor then either. I'm going to try and be a Squire like your pa; and then I'll take all the little thieving fellows I can find, and help 'em to be good. Rich folks don't know how hard 'tis for poor ones to keep from stealin' when their stomach is as flimpsy as a rag. I know how to pity 'em, for when mammy locked me up till I'd agree to steal again, there was such a gnawing and gnawing, that I should have give in, if it hadn't been for you.
"Every time, I'd say to myself, I can't stand it no longer; then I'd see you a-sitting in your donkey carriage, looking at me with such sorry eyes.
"But that isn't what I was going to tell yer; and Tip is getting tired writing such a lot of stuff. I've begun to be a soldier, I don't wear any uniform except a little blue star on my coat; but everybody knows by this, that I'm trying to fight against all my old habits. It's hard work I tell you. 'Tisn't as if I was at Mrs. Taylor's, with everybody helping me, and nothing to make me cross. There's lots of bad boys here, who won't join the company of soldiers, and they do everything they can to hinder and bother us. I'm most afraid to tell yer one thing, for fear ye'll think Tip and I are better than we are. We've begun to pray God to help us, and it does come a sight easier to do as we oughter.