"I've got a letter for you," said Tom, disinterestedly. "I was told to deliver it."
"You—were you at Temple's?"
"There isn't any answer," said Tom, with his usual exasperating stolidness.
Roy hesitated a moment. Then, as one will take a dose of medicine quickly to have it over, he grasped the envelope, tore it open, and read:
"Dear Mary—Since you butted in Tom and I have decided it would be best for Pee-wee to go with him and I'll stay home. Anyway, that's what I've decided. So you'll get your wish, all right, and I should worry.
He looked up into Tom's almost expressionless countenance. "Who—told—you to deliver it—Tom?"
"I told myself. You said you'd call the whole thing off for two cents. But you ought not to expect me to pay the two cents——"
"Didn't I put a stamp on it?" said Roy, looking at the envelope.
"If you want to put a stamp on it now," said Tom, "I'll go and mail it for you—but I—I didn't feel I cared to trust you for two cents—over night."