How oddly it looked, and how
queerly it sounded when he said it over! It was so long since he heard
that name, he never wanted to again. He was glad that Ray Minturn had
never called him Tip, nor heard him called so.
Who could it be from? Nobody wrote to him except Kitty, and once in a
long while his mother; but this was no home-letter. At last he broke the
seal, and read:--
"DEER TIP,--Mother's dead, I feel bad, you kno that, so what's the use?
I've got to go to work. I like you better than any of the other felows,
always did. Can't I com out there to your store and work, I'll behave
myself reel wel; I _will_, honour bright, if you'll git me a place.
I've got money enuff to get there. I dug potatoes for old Williams and
earned it. Rite to me rite off that's a good fellow. I want to com
awful. BOB TURNER."
Edward was thunderstruck! he dropped the letter on the floor in disgust.
What was to be done now? The idea of having Bob Turner there was
perfectly dreadful; besides, thank fortune! it was impossible.
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