Trif fell back in her chair, as if in a faint. Fenie hurried to her, exclaiming:
"Trif, dear! What is the matter? Speak to me, quick!"
"That letter! That awful letter that I began for Trixy! Here it is!"
"Dear me! Where could it have come from?"
"I can't imagine. Why—the envelope is addressed to Admiral Allison! How could it have got among our letters?"
"Oh," said Trixy, as excited as anyone, "a man gave me the letter, a few minutes ago, to give to the Admiral, and I forgot all about it, and I've gone and cut the end of it, with the others!"
"But who can it have come from?" persisted Trif, looking into the envelope. "There is nothing else with it, and some one had drawn pictures on blank parts of the sheets."
"He must have lent it to someone, who is returning it to him," suggested Fenie.
"I've always supposed naval officers the soul of honor?" sighed Trif.
"Won't you give me the drawing on the back of it for my scrap-book, mamma?" asked Trixy. No objection being made, Trixy tore the Admiral's sketch of the gold placer and vicinity from the sheet, and pasted it into a fearfully and wonderfully made book of pictures, which she had brought from home. She looked at Jermyn's sketch a moment, thought it very like the other, and cast it aside. Her mother picked it up, read the page which she had written, and then she and Fenie devised wildly improbable theories of the history of the letter. The conclusion finally reached, greatly though they regretted it, was that the letter had been lent by the Admiral to someone in the fort, with the impression that there was some fun in it. If army and navy officers saw jokes in such things, of course Jermyn would soon hear of the letter itself, to his great discomfort; for the sisters agreed that he was too much of a gentleman to laugh over such a matter. Suddenly Fenie exclaimed: