"Who are coming, Roger, did you hear?" asked Dave.
"Shadow Hamilton for one, and perhaps Buster Beggs and Luke Watson. I asked some of the other fellows, but they had other engagements. Old John went down to the post-office for letters a while ago. Maybe he'll bring news."
"Here he comes now," cried Dave, as he saw a colored man-of-all-work coming along the road that ran in front of the Morr estate. "And he's got a bundle of letters."
All three boys ran across the broad lawn to meet the colored man.
"Any letters for me, John?"
"Don't forget me!"
"Who's the pink envelope for?"
"Letters fo' all ob yo' young gen'men, I 'spect," returned the man-of-all-work. "Mebbe yo' kin sort 'em out better'n I kin, Massa Roger," he added. "My eyesight ain't no better'n it ought to be." And he handed the bunch of mail over to the senator's son.
"One for Phil and two for Dave," said Roger, looking the mail over. "And four for myself. Pretty good. Here, John, take the rest into the house."
Without ceremony the three chums returned to their resting place on the shady lawn and began the perusal of their letters.
