“Yes?”
“Me and my mates are going out of town to live and to work, and I want you to join me.”
“Yes?”
“So get things ship-shape with the post-office order what I send, and be ready to come to me as soon as I send for you.”
“What next?”
“So no more at present from your affectionate husband, John Sturman.”
“Affectionate husband, John Sturman. There it is, then,” and the writer proceeded to blot the page and fold the sheet. But the man looked very dissatisfied.
“Stop a minute,” he said; “you had better put at the end of the letter: ‘P.S.—Excuse bad writing and bad spelling.’”
The letter-writer’s laugh rang out merrily, but she faithfully added the postscript.
“Now for the address,” she said. “Have you a stamp?”