"I wonder where it did come from," said Polly, in the greatest
anxiety, examining again the address.

"Where does the postmark say?" asked Mrs. Pepper, looking over
her shoulder.

"It's all rubbed out," said Polly, peering at it "you can't see
anything."

"Do open it," said Ben, "and then you'll find out."

"But p'raps 'tisn't for me," said Polly, timidly.

"Well, Mr. Atkins says 'tis," said Ben, impatiently; "here, I'll open
it for you, Polly."

"No, let her open it for herself, Ben," protested his mother.

"But she won't," said Ben; "do tear it open, Polly."

"No, I'm goin' to get a knife," she said.

"I'll get one," cried Joel, running up to the table drawer; "here's
one, Polly."

"Oh, dear," groaned Ben; "you never'll get it open at this rate!"

But at last it was cut; and they all holding their breath, gazed
awe-struck, while Polly drew out the mysterious missive.