“I’ve news,” said Joe; “want it?”
“Yes.”
Joe Downs opened his pocket, and, by the light of the moon, found the letter he had referred to.
“Dr. Gale told me not to fail to put this into your hands as I came by. I should kind o’ judge, by the way he spoke, that the continent couldn’t get along very well ’thout you, if I hadn’t known a thing or two. Howsomever, here’s the letter, and I’ve to jog on to Guilford afore the moon goes down. So good-night.”
“Good night, Joe. Thank you for stopping,” said David, going into the house.
“Were you expecting that letter, David?” questioned Mr. Bushnell, when it had been read.
“No, sir. It is from Dr. Gale. He asks me to hasten matters as far as possible, but a new contrivance will have to go in before I am ready.”
“There! That’s what troubles him,” thought both Mrs. Bushnell and Ezra, and they exchanged glances of sympathy and satisfaction—and the little household went to sleep, quite care-free that night.
At two of the clock, with nearly noiseless tread, David Bushnell left the house.