"No. I am. Shut the door."
She did so, and then approached him.
"Whatever is the matter?"
He held up the billet and said hoarsely, "Listen. I found this in the lacquer cabinet five minutes ago. It's in Posy's writin'. And it's addressed 'To my own Blue Bird.'"
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
The sight of her weakness strengthened him, but he exclaimed testily: "Don't make them stoopid noises. They sound like a mind out of whack. Sit tight! I'm a-going to read this precious letter bang through, a letter written by your daughter."
Susan, wriggling on the edge of a chair, protested feebly:
"My daughter? Ain't she yours, too?"
"I'm beginning to doubt it." He read aloud, "'My own Blue Bird——'"
"Who is her Blue Bird, Joe?"