My boy, if there really is something the matter with your eyes, we can't have them attended to any too quickly, and if there isn't I somehow feel a little frankness now, on my part, may effect almost as rapid a cure as your Uncle Ted's and without any painful ending.
Your affectionate father,
William Soule.
Lynn, Mass.
February 20, 19—
Dear Ted:
My boy, I owe you an apology for doubting you had eye trouble. It was hard for me to believe you were faking; but the circumstantial evidence against you was pretty strong. I should have known better, though, for you have always played fair with me so I ask your pardon.
That letter from the oculist, in Portsmouth, saying you needed glasses was a relief and a disappointment. A relief, to know you weren't trying to slip one over, and a disappointment to learn you must wear glasses. Don't let wearing glasses disturb you. You won't need them when you are playing football, and if you only wear them when you read your nose won't be disfigured by the strain.