He did not want the postmaster to learn his secret, as he would have done had he received it directly from him, and noted the address on the envelope.
For the rest of the week, Harry went about his work weighed down with his important secret--a secret which he had not even shared with Ferguson.

If the essay was declined, as he thought it might very possibly be, he did not want any one to know it.

If it were accepted, and printed, it would be time enough then to make it known.
But there were few minutes in which his mind was not on his literary venture.

His preoccupation was observed by his fellow-workmen in the office, and he was rallied upon it, good-naturedly, by Ferguson, but in a different spirit by Clapp.
"It seems to me you are unusually silent, Harry," said Ferguson.
"You're not in love, are you ?" "Not that I know of," said Harry, smiling.

"It's rather too early yet." "I've known boys of your age to fancy themselves in love." "He is is more likely thinking up some great discovery," said Clapp, sneering.