"Well, I hope so," Will answered.

"And so is Tom Raymond. I had done him such an injustice; but he's
turned out so different from what I supposed he was. Oh, he's just
splendid! and if you--" But here--I'm half ashamed to record it of my
plucky little Tilly--here, suddenly overcome by all the excitement she
had been through, Tilly broke down and began to cry.

"Oh, don't! I wish you wouldn't, now! Oh, I say!" cried Will, in boyish
embarrassment.

Poor Tilly checked her sobs by a vigorous effort; but tears continued to
flow, and she fumbled vainly for her handkerchief to dry them.

"Here, here, take mine," said Will, hastily thrusting the cambric into
her hand; "and don't you bother another bit about Agnes and her
tantrums. I'll burn her old paper if you say so, and I won't read it at
all."

"Oh, yes, yes, you'll have to read it now. She'll ask you,--she'll tell
you. Yes, read it, read it, Will. I know you'll pity Peggy, as
grandmother and I do."

Thus adjured, Will drew the bit of paper from his pocket.

Tilly forgot her tears as she watched Will's face. He read it twice. At
first there was an entire lack of comprehension; at the second reading a
look of shocked understanding, and, bringing his fist down upon his
knee, he exclaimed,--