He now sat up, drew forth the precious and much-soiled epistle, unfolded and spread it out carefully on his knees, placed his pipe very much on one side of his mouth, in order that the smoke might not interfere with his vision, and began to read.
"'Peeler's Farm,'—ah! Susan, darlin', it's Jo Bumpus as would give all he has in the world, includin' his Sunday clo's, to be anchored alongside o' ye at that same farm!—'Sanfransko.' I misdoubt the spellin' o' that word, Susan, dear; it seems to me raither short, as if ye'd docked off its tail. Howsomdever—'For John bumpuss'—O Susan, Susan! if ye'd only remember the big B, and there ain't two esses. I'm sure it's not for want o'tellin' ye, but ye was never great in the way ov memry or spellin'. Pr'aps it's as well. Ye'd ha' bin too perfect, an' that's not desirable by no means,—'my darlin' Jo,'—ay, them's the words. It's that as sets my 'art a b'ilin' over like."
Here Jo raised his eyes from the letter, and revelled silently in the thought for at least two minutes, during which his pipe did double duty in half its usual time. Then he recurred to his theme; but some parts he read in silence, and without audible comment.
"Aye," said he, "'sandle-wood skooners, the Haf ov thems pirits'—so they is, Susan. It's yer powers o' prophesy as amazes me; 'an' The other hafs no beter;' a deal wus, Susan, if ye only know'd it. Ah! my sweet gal, if ye knew wot a grief that word 'beter' was to me before I diskivered wot it wos, ye'd try to improve yer hand o' write, an' make fewer blots!"
At this point Jo was arrested by the sound of footsteps behind him. He folded up his letter precipitately, thrust it into his left breast-pocket, and jumped up with a guilty air about him.
"Why, Bumpus! we have startled you out of a morning nap, I fear," said Henry Stuart, who, accompanied by his mother, came up at that moment. "We are on our way to say good-by to Mr. Mason. As we passed this knoll I caught sight of you, and came up to ask about the boat."
"It's all right," said Bumpus, who quickly recovered his composure,—indeed, he had never lost much of it. "I've bin down to Saunder's store and got the ropes for your—"
"Hush, man I there is no need of telling what they are for," said Henry, with a mysterious look at his mother.
"Why not tell me all, Henry?" said Mrs. Stuart; "surely, you can trust me?"
"Trust you, mother!" replied the youth, with a smile. "I should think so; but there are reasons for my not telling you everything just now. Surely, you can trust me? I have told you as much as I think advisable in the meantime. Ere long I will tell you all."