"Here's a kettle of fish," said she, seating herself in Susan's kitchen. "You haven't heard from Jeremy, have you?"
"No," replied Susan, "that's just what I wanted to speak to you about."
"About what?" asked Dobbs.
"About the letter from Jeremy," answered Susan. "Did you leave it here yourself, or did you send it?"
"Oh, then, you have had it?" said Dobbs.
"Not I," returned Susan; "I never got it at all; and I want to know who you gave it to."
"I don't know what you mean," said Dobbs, looking bewildered. "If you never got it, how do you know there was any letter at all?"
"Just because I found some bits of it torn up, and half burnt, lying under the parlour grate," answered Susan—"Here they are;" and she handed Dobbs the remnants she had found.
"Well, that's the funniest thing!" said Dobbs, "that's Jeremy's hand sure enough; but how in the world did it come here?"
"Did you send it?" said Susan.
"Not I," replied Dobbs. "I never had it, I tell you. I never so much as knew there had been a letter sent, till a few days ago when a
