He frowned and held out his hand.
"Oh, papa, let me read it!" she murmured low and tremulously, her eyes still pleading more eloquently than her tongue.
"No," he said, and his look and gesture were imperative.
She silently put the letter into his hand, and turned away with a low sob.
"It is not worth one tear, or even an emotion of regret, my child," he said, sitting down beside her. "I shall send it back at once; unread, unless you prefer to have me read it first."
"No, papa."
"Very well, then I shall not. But, Elsie, do you not see now that he is quite capable of imitating the handwriting of another?"
"Yes, papa; but that does not prove that he did in the case you refer to."
"And he has acted quite fairly and honestly in using that talent to elude my vigilance and tempt you to deception and disobedience, eh?"
"He is not perfect, papa, but I can't believe him as bad as you think."