"I hope you got good news from Robert," said the postmaster, after she had given her order. "Good news?" she repeated, in bewilderment. "I haven't any news, Mr. Blarcomb." "Oh, then that Chicago letter wasn't from him?" "What Chicago letter?" "The one I gave to Mr. Talbot yesterday. I felt certain it was your son's handwriting on the envelope." "He gave me no letter," answered the lady, and then a sudden fear came into her heart that made her feel faint. Had her husband received a letter from her son and destroyed it? "No, no, he would not be so cruel," she thought. "Well, the letter was for you, whether you got it or not," said Joel Blarcomb bluntly. He did not like James Talbot any more than did many others in the little town. All who had had dealings with Robert's step-father had found him mean to the last degree. "Perhaps he has forgotten to give it to me," said Mrs. Talbot, and abruptly left the store. Joel Blarcomb gazed after her pityingly. "She didn't make no happy match an' I know it," he muttered. "That Talbot aint half the man Frost was." Arriving at home, Mrs. Talbot at once sought out her husband. "James, where is the letter Mr. Blarcomb gave you for me?" she demanded. "The letter?" he said carelessly. "Why--er--that didn't amount to anything." "Did you open it?" "Yes--by mistake. It was only an advertisement from a Chicago investment company. The men who run it are little better than swindlers and I don't want you to have anything to do with them." Mrs. Talbot's heart sank. The letter was not from Robert after all. "Still, I would like to see the letter," she continued. "I am sorry, my love, but I really believe I tore it up--in fact I am sure I did." "You shouldn't have done that, since it was addressed to me." "As your husband, I didn't do so very wrong to open the letter. When I saw what it was I thought best to destroy it--I didn't want you to place any of your money in the hands of such swindlers. If you did that you would never see a dollar of it again." "Don't you think I am capable of looking out a little bit for myself, James?" "Not in money matters, Sarah. Such things a woman should leave entirely to her husband." "I feel I must differ with you. After Mr. Frost died I became the sole executrix of his will, and I do not know that anything has gone wrong." "Oh, I do not say that." James Talbot paused for a moment. "Speaking of Mr. Frost," he continued. "May I ask, did he leave his estate entirely to you?" "No, he left me my choice of one-half of all he possessed, the other half to go to Robert, or the use of everything so long as I lived, all to go to Robert after my death, providing he was living at that time." "And which did you choose," asked Talbot, trying vainly to conceal his intense interest in the matter. "I chose a life interest only, and signed the necessary papers for the surrogate." "Then when you die, all will go to that good-for-nothing boy."