The Perkins boy was holding it out. "It's a fat one, too," he said.
Uncle Eb took it, put on his spectacles, and turned it over and over. Then he passed it to Aunt Tucker, and Elly and Susie and John all had a peep at it. Marty stood with a rapt expression on her face and her heart was throbbing wildly.
"Is it from Tim?" she asked.
"No, Tim can't write," said Susie, impatiently, for Susie could not help being envious.
"Here, Marty, open it," said Uncle Eb.
Marty took it and tore the envelope with trembling fingers, Elly showing her how. Inside there was a fat letter, and inside of that a one-dollar bill. Little John's eyes were popping in wonder. Uncle Eb drew on his spectacles and sat down in his rocking-chair. Marty was so excited that she crowded up and held fast to his coat as if she feared the precious letter might fly away. It was from the postmaster's wife, and this is what it said:
"Dear Marty,—I wish to pay you for the four nice big pumpkins that rolled into our front yard this morning. I've been wanting some pumpkins for pies ever so long, and they came just in time. Mrs. Brainard and Mrs. Peters also received a good supply. We enclose a dollar in payment. Come in and call on me when you go to see Tim, and have a piece of pie."
Marty's eyes sparkled. It wasn't so much the money as it was the fact that the letter was written to her own self, and that some one in the Centre knew about her.
The next day two more letters came—the postmaster's wife had done her work well—and when Marty counted her fortune, she had $4.25.
"That's more'n we'd got fer the punkins at the depot," said Uncle Eb.