It bore the address of the
Winnipeg solicitor, and evidently was some private correspondence of
his respected counsellor, Mr. Lawson.
"Ginger, I must git to town soon, for it must be something
important! Darned if I know whether to read it or not. P'raps I'd
better not. I couldn't go and tell a lie and say I didn't when I
did. It would make a feller feel kinder streaked when he thought
on't."
Mr. Spriggins reasoned thus, and the upshot of it was that next
morning, after he had got a man to take his place, set off to town,
a distance of twenty-two miles.
A pallor overspread the countenance of Mr. Lawson as he glanced at
the missive which Mr. Spriggins placed in his hand, with the
impression that it was business.
"Yes, it is indeed business, Mr. Spriggins, and I am your debtor for
life," said the young man, extending his hand to the obliging Moses
and giving him that hearty shake which often betokens lasting
gratitude.
"Call on me at any time, Mr. Spriggins; you will be in again soon, I
presume."
"After hayin', sir."
"Very well," and bowing the visitor out the lawyer once more took up
the letter and read it slowly through.
"Heavens!" exclaimed the young man, excitedly.
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