all sort of burst upon me in one minute!” cried Jill, waving her
arms about to express the intellectual explosion which had thrown
light upon the mystery, like sky-rockets in a dark night.
“You are as bright as a button. No time to lose; I’m off”; and off he
was, splashing through the mud to post the letter, on the back of
which he added, to make the thing sure, “Hurry up.
F. M.”
Both felt rather guilty next day, but enjoyed themselves very much
nevertheless, and kept chuckling over the mine they were making
under Jack’s unconscious feet. They hardly expected an answer at
noon, as the Hill people were not very eager for their mail, but at
night Jill was sure of a letter, and to her great delight it came. Jack
brought it himself, which added to the fun, and while she eagerly
read it he sat calmly poring over the latest number of his own
private and particular “Youth’s Companion.”
Bob was not a “complete letter-writer” by any means, and with
great labor and much ink had produced the following brief but
highly satisfactory epistle. Not knowing how to address his fair
correspondent he let it alone, and went at once to the point in the
frankest possible way:
“Jack did come up Friday. Sorry he got into a mess. It was real
kind of him, and I shall pay him back soon. Jack paid Jerry for me
and I made him promise not to tell. Jerry said he’d come here and
make a row if I didn’t cash up. I was afraid I’d lose the place if he
did, for the Capt. is awful strict. If Jack don’t tell now, I will. I ain’t
mean. Glad you wrote.
R. O. W.”
“Hurrah!” cried Jill, waving the letter over her head in great
triumph. “Call everybody and read it out,” she added, as Frank
snatched it, and ran for his mother, seeing at a glance that the news
was good. Jill was so afraid she should tell before the others came
that she burst out singing “Pretty Bobby Shafto” at the top of her
voice, to Jack’s great disgust, for he considered the song very
personal, as he wa.s rather fond of “combing down his yellow
hair,” and Jill often plagued him by singing it when he came in
with the golden quiris very smooth and nice to hide the scar on his
forehead.
In about five minutes the door flew open and in came Mamma,
making straight for bewildered Jack, who thought the family had
gone crazy when his parent caught him in her arms, saying
tenderly,
“My good, generous boy! I knew he was right all the time!” while
Frank worked his hand up and down like a pump-handle,
exclaiming heartily,
“You’re a trump, sir, and I’m proud of you!” Jill meantime calling
out, in wild delight,
“I told you so! I told you so! I did find out; ha, ha, I did!”
“Come, I say! What’s the matter? I’m all right. Don’t squeeze the
breath out of me, please,” expostulated Jack, looking so startled
and innocent, as he struggled feebly, that they all laughed, and this
plaintive protest caused him to be released. But the next
proceeding did not enlighten him much, for Frank kept waving a
very inky paper before him and ordering him to read it, while
Mamma made a charge at Jill, as if it was absolutely necessary to
hug somebody.
“Hullo!” said Jack, when he got the letter into his own hand and
read it. “Now who put Bob up to this? Nobody had any business to
interfere–but it’s mighty good of him, anyway,” he added, as the
anxious lines in his round face smoothed themselves away, while a
smile of relief told how hard it had been for him to keep his word.
“I did!” cried Jill, clapping her hands, and looking so happy that he
could not have scolded her if he had wanted to.
“Who told you he was in the scrape?” demanded Jack, in a hurry to
know all about it now the seal was taken off his own lips.
“You did”; and Jill’s face twinkled with naughty satisfaction, for