"Well, it does feel real lonesome to see all the boys sending off their letters home; but the fact is, Miss Larned, I have n' t got a relation to write to—not one."
"Oh, I am perfectly sure your neighbors would be very glad to hear from you." Netty said, cheerily.
Joe glanced around again, and then speaking still lower, said:—
"No, there ain't one of them that I 'd bother with a letter. But there is a letter I 'd like to send, if you think it 's proper," and with his feeble right hand he managed to take from under his pillow the big leather wallet, and laying it near the edge of the bed, he tried to open it.
"Let me open it for you," said Netty. "Is the letter you want to answer in here?"
"’Taint exactly a letter," said Joe. "That 's it," he said, pointing to the little bit of pink paper in one of the compartments, as Netty held them open.
"It ain't a letter," he continued. "It 's only a name. It was in one of those red stockings I took to please Wilson. Do you remember?"
"Oh, yes, I remember all about it."
"I did n't dislike the color," said Joe, "though the boys did make most too much fun of them. Well, this paper was in the toe of one of those stockings, and I suppose it 's the name of the girl that knit them. Should n't you think so?"
"Yes, I think it must be," said Netty.
"I 've been thinking," said Joe, "that it would n't
