"I can't write much; and it ought to be writed in ink, and I I am only allowed to use pencil," explained my daughter, not without a certain bitterness. "But I put the lead in my mouf," she added defiantly. At this moment the door of my apartment was hurled open, and Gerald projected himself into the room. It was the evening before his return to school, and there was a predatory look in his eye.
"Papa talked it into the box, and the man writed it down when he talked," confusing the telephone at home with the cablegram, which, directed to Miss Eunice Ward, as the eldest representative, had been the occasion of much excitement on its arrival.
"Yes, 'tis; an' he does a lot of funny things. Once when we was to New York, I wanted a penny, and he said to get it in his pocket, an' there wasn't one penny there, but all the pretty letters Miss Kittie had writed to me for my own. I thought 'twas so funny, but he said they were safer there, than in my box, an' I better leave 'm, so I did."
He got it mark on hees head vere de blud run dot tam, yust de sam, all right. I know heem. He speek lak heem. He move hees arm lak heem. Yas, I know putty good." "You're sure you remember everything he said all you told me?" "Oh, yas. I write it here," and he drew a small book from his pocket, very worn and soiled. "All iss here writed." "Let's see it."
His slate or paper would be put on the floor before him, and he would slip his foot out of his slipper, grasp his pencil, and begin. By the end of a year, he really wrote wonderfully well." "Oh-h!" sighed Zaidee. "Helen and I practised lots, last winter, with mamma, and we can't write much now. We writed every day, too." "Where is the man now?" asked Eunice. "What became of him?"
'Eh well, Signore! he cried in conclusion, addressing Arthur again. 'I waited for a good opportunity. I writed some words to Signor Panco, an air of novelty came over Mr Pancks with this designation, 'to come and help. I showed him, Rigaud, at his window, to Signor Panco, who was often the spy in the day. I slept at night near the door of the house.
In the hour when his anger was at its height, the woman came up to Verner's Pride, stealthily, as it seemed, and craved him to write to Australia, "now he was a grand gentleman," and ask the "folks over there" if they could send back news of her son. "It's going on of a twelvemonth since he writed to us, sir, and we don't know where to write to him, and I'm a'most fretted into my grave."
"It's like a mangle," she said: "if things are put in, they get squoze " "Squeezeled!" Bruno interrupted. "Yes." Sylvie accepted the correction, but did not attempt to pronounce the word, which was evidently new to her. "They get like that and they come out, oh, ever so long!" "Once," Bruno began again, "Sylvie and me writed " "Wrote!" Sylvie whispered.
"That doesn't count," said Eunice. "It wasn't mamma's own dear handwriting." "Papa writed it," chirped in Helen. "No, he didn't, goosie," said Cricket. "The man here wrote it. Papa only sent it." "I know!" exclaimed Zaidee.
An' 'en my papa dropped it 's if it was a yellow-jacket an' he said, great big an' loud, 'Money! from them! Don't touch it, child! An' he frowed it in the fire. But I did n't see no money and I wanted to keep my letter, 'cause it was all mine. But I had my new mamma then, an' when I cried she writed me another letter." "Yes," I said, "it's very queer to have two mammas, is n't it?