A bony horse with a head so long that he might easily eat his oats out of a flour barrel, appeared from around the turn in the Lower Trillion road. He drew behind him a buckboard which sagged under the weight of Amos Pickering, the rural mail carrier. "Maybe he’s got a letter for us," suggested Miss Heppy with some eagerness. "You go see, Tobias." The lightkeeper dropped his spade and made a speaking trumpet of his hands. "Ahoy! Ahoy, Amos! What’s the good word?" The mail carrier waved an answering hand before diving into the sack at his feet and bringing to light, as Tobias strode down to the roadside, a letter and a paper. "Wal, now," said the lightkeeper, "that’s what ye might call a heavy haul for us. I cal’late, Amos, if all your customers got as few parcels o’ mail as what me and Heppy does, you’d purt’ near go out o’ business." "It’s got a black border onto it, Tobias," said the mail carrier, voicing the curiosity that ate like acid on his mind. "And it’s postmarked at Batten. Ain’t that where your Uncle Jethro lives?" "Sure enough!" agreed the lightkeeper. "But ’tain’t his hand o’ write—nossir!" "Be you sure?" "Surest thing you know, Amos. ’Cause why? Cap’n Jethro Potts never learned to more than make his mark—if that much." "I cal’late he’s dead, Tobias." "Then it’s sartain he didn’t send this letter with the black border." "Well, it must be something about him, don’t you think?" suggested the mail carrier leaning forward, his eager eyes twinkling. "Why, we ain’t in correspondence with nobody down there to Batten," said Tobias slowly, and holding the letter far off as though he feared it might explode. Miss Heppy had got to her feet now and came forward. "What’s the matter with you, Tobias?" she cried. "Why don’t you open it? Amos won’t get home to-night if you don’t." Her gentle sarcasm was quite lost on the two men. Her brother shook his head. "Can’t open it," he said. "Why not, for love’s sake?" demanded the exasperated Heppy. "’Cause it’s for you," chuckled Tobias, thrusting the letter into her hand. "For love’s sake!" repeated Miss Heppy much flustered. "I can’t read it, Tobias. I ain’t got my specs here." "No more have I," her brother rejoined. "But I cal’late I can read it for you if ’tain’t writ in Choctaw." The others, Amos no less than Heppy, remained eagerly expectant while Tobias worked his stubbed finger under the gummed flap of the envelope and tore it open. The folded sheet of paper he drew forth was likewise bordered with black. He held it off, for he was far-sighted, and read aloud slowly: "’Batten, Mass. "’Miss Hephzibah Bassett, "’Twin Rocks Light. "’Dear Miss Heppy:—