Mrs. Lancaster came a little closer. "Is that a letter for your father?
The last post must have been late?"
The strain was telling on Doris; she gave a nervous assent.
"Ah, it has not come by post, I see! Why it is not even addressed to him!"
"It is for him."
"From Mr. Craig?"
"Yes."
"If it is anything exciting, he ought not to have it to-night. It will spoil his chances of getting to sleep."
"I—I don't think so, mother."
"My dear girl, you ought to be perfectly certain, one way or another. I simply cannot trust you. Leave it with me, and you can give it him in the morning."
Doris felt faint. "I can take care of it, but I'm sure it won't do him any harm. I will—"