"Well, he used to be! It was his special forte. I've had letters from him a dozen pages long. I don't believe he's outgrown his bent of letter writing. Now, listen, to this, Azalea, the next letter you get from him, I want you to show it to me, see? If there's anything in it you don't want me to know about, cut that out,—but show me at least the beginning and the ending,—and a part of a page. You hear me?"
"Of course I hear you,—not being deaf! And I'll show you the letter,—if I think of it."
"You'll think of it,—I'll see to that, myself. You ought to get one soon, oughtn't you?"
"No,—I haven't answered his last one yet."
"Why, you just said you had!"
"Oh, I meant the one before the last—"
"You meant nothing of the sort. And, mind you, Azalea, this is a direct command,—you must show me his next letter."
"I won't take commands! How dare you? You have no right to order me about so. I hate you!"
"Don't talk so, Zaly," Patty said, gently. "Cousin Bill isn't asking anything out of the way. There's no reason you shouldn't show him your father's letter,—in part, at least,—is there now?"
"N—no,—but I don't want to."