She was much relieved now, and so were her chums. They could think with more pleasure of the prospective trip to Florida.
"But if Will left you a week ago, Uncle Isaac, I don't see why this letter has only now arrived," spoke Grace. "When is it postmarked, father?"
"It reached Deepdale to-day, but it was mailed in—let me see—why, I can't make out the other mark, nor the date either."
"Let me try," suggested Uncle Isaac, putting on his glasses. But he had no better luck.
"Either Will carried that letter around in his pocket after writing it," said Mr. Ford, "or he dropped it in some obscure postoffice where their cancelling stamps are worn out and letters go only once a week or so. The letter was written on the night he left your house, evidently," he said to his brother, indicating the superscription. "I guess the mails down your way are not very certain, Isaac."
"Not always. Well, I'm glad the boy is all right. I tried to do my duty by him, as I promised I would, Jim."
"I know you did, Isaac, and I think this will be a lesson to him. I'll be glad to have him back, though. For I—I've missed him," and again Mr. Ford's voice faltered.
"So have I," said Grace, softly. "And this
