“Why, you were honest in coming to tell me of the blot, and the blot happens to be upon the word honesty. That’s a coincidence. I am glad you were honest; but, then, you did very wrong to come and attempt to write with my pen. You have done me a great deal of mischief.”
“Can’t you get the blots out, any possible way?” asked Lucy.
“No, I presume not,” he replied. “I might try an acid, however,” he added, in a low voice, as if talking to himself.
“I wish you would, father,” said Lucy. “Do try an acid, father.”
Lucy did not know what an acid was, nor how her father was going to attempt to remove the ink stains by means of it; but she was very eager to have him try any thing which promised any chance of success.
“I don’t think I can take the spots out entirely,” said her father; “but perhaps I can change their color, so that they will not be quite so conspicuous.”
As he said this, he took the lamp and went away, Lucy following him. He went to a closet which was in another room, and took down a small phial, and poured out a few drops of the liquid which was in it, into a tea-cup. Then he got some water, and poured about a spoonful into the tea-cup too. Then he came back with Lucy into his own room.
“First,” said he, “we will try it upon another piece of paper.”
So saying, he took a small piece of newspaper, and made a blot upon it about as large as those which Lucy had made in the book. Then he held the newspaper to the fire until the blot was dry.
“Now I must make a little brush,” said he.