"Peggy, it's the strangest thing I ever heard of. It's just like the first."
"Just like the first? I suppose you mean--"
"I mean it's word for word like the other one. Do you suppose she could have forgotten that she had written him and thanked him over again?"
"If that's the case she must be a very stupid person," Peggy pronounced judicially. Then curiosity prompted her to ask, "Did Graham leave that lying around too?"
Ruth flushed hotly. "No-o! I took the mail from the postman, and I recognized the monogram. The writing didn't look natural. She must have used a different pen."
Peggy refused to be diverted by the peculiarities of Maud's penmanship. "Ruth Wylie!" she demanded indignantly. "Do you mean to tell me that you opened your brother's letter?"
Ruth squirmed. "Peggy, I just had to know what she said."
"If you wanted to know what she said you should have gone to Graham and asked him. I don't think anything very good ever comes from doing things in an underhanded way."
"Don't be cross, Peggy," pleaded Ruth. "I never was so puzzled and troubled in all my life. And I want you to advise me."
"I am advising you. Go to Graham about it. Or else tell your father. That's the only advice I can give you, and the best you're likely to get from anybody."