"Do you like wiggles on your M's?" asked June, flattered by the request and anxious to please.
"No matter," said Monsieur impatiently, "we must finish before twelve o'clock. Now—small o—"
June put his tongue out, and hunching up his shoulders and breathing hard proceeded with his laborious work. It was hard enough to keep the lines from running uphill and the letters from growing bigger and bigger, but those difficulties were small compared to the task of guiding a sputtering, leaking pen. Once or twice he forgot and tried to rub out with the other end of it and the result was discouraging. When a period very large and black was placed after the final word, he handed the letter dubiously to Monsieur.
"Does it spell anything?" he asked. Monsieur eagerly read the scrawling address. "Yes, yes," he answered, "now put it inside your blouse, so. When you get home wait until nobody is looking, then put it in the mail-box. Do you understand? When nobody is looking! Nobody must know, nobody must suspect, do you understand?"
"'Does it spell anything?' June asked."
"Oh, I know, it's a secret!" cried June in delight. "I had a secret with mother for a whole week once. I wouldn't tell anything if I said I wouldn't, would you?"
June was looking very straight at Monsieur, his round eyes shining with honesty, but Monsieur's eyes shifted uneasily.
"I would never betray a trust," he said slowly, "if I were trusted. But they believed lies, they listened to tales that the beggarly Japanese carried. They have made me what I am."