'Dear Molly,
'It is rough lines on you, but we did not mean to keep it up, and it is your fault for coming home the day before you ought to have. We did it to kid old Simpshall, because she was so beastly about us making a real battlefield. We only painted all the parts of us that show with vermilion, and put spots—mixed crimson lake and Prussian blue—all over, and we pulled down the blinds and said our heads ached, and so they did with crying—I mean the girls cried. She was afraid to come near us; but she was sorry she had been such a beast. And when she had come to the door and said so through the keyhole we owned up, but you had gone by then. It was a rare lark, but we've got three days bedder for it. I shall lower this on the end of a fishingline to the baker's boy, and he will post it. It is like a dungeon. He is going to bring us tarts, like a faithful page.
'Your affectionate bro.,
'Bertrand de Lisle Carruthers.'
The other letter was from mother.
'My darling Molly,
It was all a naughty hoax, intended to annoy poor Miss Simpshall. Your brothers and sisters had painted their faces red and purple—they had not measles at all. But since you are at Aunt Maria's I think you may as well stay ...'
'How awful!' said Molly. 'It is too bad!'
'... stay and make it your annual visit. Be a good girl, dear, and do not forget to wear your pinafores in the morning.
'Your loving Mother.'
Molly wrote a nice little letter to her mother. To her brother she said: