Part 14 (1/2)

He arranged the various articles in their respective drawers and shelves, stood back viewing them with satisfaction, removed the ap.r.o.n, carefully hung it up, and went to the open back door leading into the wood shed.

Ralph's alarm for fear that his guest had wandered off or might do himself a mischief, gave place to pleased interest.

It looked as if the strange boy had been used to some methodical features of domestic life, and habit was fitting him readily and comfortably into the groove in which he found himself.

Ralph decided that he would not startle or disturb the stranger, but would watch to see what he did next.

The boy glanced towards the wood box behind the cook stove. In the hurry of the past twenty-four hours Ralph had not found time to keep it as well filled as usual.

His guest evidently observed this, went into the wood shed, seated himself on the chopping log, and seizing the short handled ax there, began chopping the sawed lengths piled near at hand with a pleased, hearty good will.

Mrs. Fairbanks, disturbed by the sound of chopping, had awakened, and with some trepidation came hurrying from the sitting room, anxiously seeking to learn what had become of their guest.

Ralph motioned her to silence, his finger on his lip, and pointed significantly through the open rear doorway.

A pathetic sympathy crossed the widow's face and the tears came into her eyes. Ralph left her to keep an un.o.btrusive watch on their guest, and returning to the well, found the envelope he had left there pretty well dried out.

He carefully removed the envelope, and placed it in his pocket. Then he as carefully unfolded the sheet within.

An expression of dismay crossed his face. The inside screed had not been written in ink, but with a soft purple lead pencil. This the rain had affected even more than it had the envelope in which it had been enclosed.

At first sight the missive was an indecipherable blur, but scanning it more closely, Ralph gained some faint hope that he might make out at least a part of its contents.

He had a magnifying gla.s.s in his workroom in the attic, and he went there for it. For nearly an hour Ralph pored over the sheet of paper which he held in his hand.

His face was a study as he came downstairs again, and sought his mother.

She sat near the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room, where she could keep sight of their guest.

The invalid was seated on the door step of the wood shed sh.e.l.ling a pan of peas, as happy and contented a mortal as one would see in a day's journey.

”He is a good boy,” said the widow softly to Ralph, ”and winsome with his gentle, easy ways. He seems to delight in occupation. What is it, Ralph?” she added, as she noted the serious, preoccupied look on her son's face.

”It is about the letter, mother,” explained Ralph. ”I told you partly about it. It was certainly directed to father, and some one employed or sent this boy to deliver it.”

”Who was it, Ralph?” inquired Mrs. Fairbanks.

”That I can not tell.”

”Was it not signed?”

”It was once, but the upper fold and the lower fold of the sheet are a perfect blur. I have been able to make out a few words here and there in the center portion, but they tell nothing coherently.”

Mrs. Fairbanks looked disappointed.

”That is unfortunate, Ralph,” she said. ”I hoped it would give some token of this boy's home or friends. But probably, when he does not return, and no answer comes to that letter, the writer will send another letter by mail.”

”The boy may have been only incidentally employed to deliver it,”

suggested Ralph, ”and not particularly known to the sender at all.”