Chancing to thrust his hand in his pocket, he felt the long-forgotten letter and drew it forth, then looking at it with wide open eyes and mouth, gave vent to his surprise as follows:  “Who’d a b’leved it!  Here’s this letter been in my pocket two weeks.  I deserve to be cracked over the head, and anybody but marster would do it.  I’ll run and give it to him now—­but no, I won’t,” said he, suddenly slackening his pace, “I’ve heard him say he could always trust me, and if I own up this time, he’ll lose his—­what’s the word?  Conference?—­Yes, conference in me.  I don’t believe this letter’s of any account, for its a great big letter, just like a man’s handwrite.  Any way, I’ll wait till I get home and consult Leffie.”

The letter was accordingly put in his pocket, and in a few moments he rejoined his master and Mr. Middleton.  The next day they returned home.  Rondeau’s first act was to draw Leffie aside, and after winning from her various strong promises of secrecy, he imparted to her the astounding fact that, “He had found one of marster’s letters in his trousers—­no, his coat pocket.  It had been there two weeks, and he didn’t know what in cain to do with it.  If he gave it to marster now, ’twould make him lose faith in him, and so forth.”

Leffie heard him through, and then fully agreed with him that ’twas best not to tell marster at this late hour.  “But,” said she, “I’d put it out of the way, so ‘twouldn’t be poppin’ out in sight some time.”

“Shall I burn it?” asked Rondeau.

“Oh, no,” said Leffie; “keep it so marster can have it, if he ever hears of it.  There’s your cigar box, take it and bury the letter in it.”

“Whew-ew,” said Rondeau, with a prolonged whistle, “it takes you women to calculate anything cute!”

The cigar box was brought out, and in a few moments the poor letter was lying quietly under a foot and a half of earth.

“There,” said Leffie, as Rondeau laid over the spot a piece of fresh green turf, “nobody’ll ever have any idee whose grave this is.”

Rondeau rolled up his eyes, and assuming a most doleful expression, said, “Couldn’t you manage to bust a tear or two, just to make it seem like a real buryin’?”

Leffie answered him by a sound box on his ear, at the same time threatening to expose his wickedness at the next class meeting.  Aunt Dilsey’s voice was now heard calling out, “Leffie, Leffie, is you stun deaf and blind now that fetched Rondeau’s done gone home?  Come here this minute!”

Rondeau and Leffie returned to the house, leaving buried a letter, the reading of which would have changed the tenor of their master’s feelings.

For a knowledge of its contents as well of its author, we must go back for a time to Frankfort whence it came, promising that Mr. Middleton will follow us in a few days.

CHAPTER XIII

Letters written but never received