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I didn rite this letter. Sensi rote it. I mus stop my ritin cuz the lite didn burn eny mor. With meni regards I reemane yor luving father. Good nite. Slepe wel and swete dreems. O revor mayx ushapy. Rite mee at wuns fur I cant wate fur yor ansur. The letter had its effect.
The usual broad smile came over Rayne's face, as he recognized his nephew's handwriting. "So he's in town," he soliloquized, as he opened the folds of the crisp paper and read: "Dear Uncle, I came to town last evening, and wish to see you when you will be quite alone. Guy." "There's an ansur wanted, sur," Fitts said timidly. "Oh, say this afternoon at five, Fitts, that will do."
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