He handed the letter to Robert, who surveyed it with curiosity. It was
postmarked "Boston," and addressed in a bold business hand to "Mrs.
Captain Rushton, Millville."

"Who can be writing to mother from Boston?" thought Robert.

The size of the letter also excited his curiosity. There were two stamps
upon it, and it appeared bulky. Robert hurried home, and rushed into the
kitchen where his mother was at work.

"Here's a letter for you, mother," he said.

"A letter for me!" repeated Mrs. Rushton.

"From Boston."

"I don't know who would be likely to write me from there. Open it for
me, Robert."

He tore open the envelope. It contained two inclosures--one a letter in
the same handwriting as the address; the other a large sheet of foolscap
rumpled up, and appearing once to have been rolled up, was written in
pencil. Mrs. Rushton had no sooner looked at the latter than she
exclaimed, in agitation: "Robert, it is your father's handwriting. Read
it to me, I am too agitated to make it out."

Robert was equally excited. Was his father still alive, or was this
letter a communication from the dead?

"First let me read the other," he said. "It will explain about this."