"Max, can't we write him a letter?"
"I do once in a while, but old Tom always reads it before it goes."
"I wouldn't let him. I'd hide away somewhere to write it, and put it in the post-office myself."
"I have no chance, he gives me only a sheet of paper at a time, and must always know what I do with it. It's the same way with my pocket money; so I can't buy postage-stamps; and I don't know how to direct the letter either."
"Oh dear! and it's just the same way with me!" sighed Lulu. "When will papa come? I'm just sick to see him and tell him everything!"
When they reached Mrs. Scrimp's door Max gave Lulu his string of fish, saying, "Here, take them, Sis. It's no use for me to keep 'em, for I shouldn't get a taste; and maybe they'll put her in a good humor with you."
"Thank you," she said. "O Max, I wish you could eat them yourself!" Her eyes were full of tears.
"I'd rather you'd have 'em; you and Gracie," he said cheerfully. "Good-by."
"Good-by," she returned, looking after him as he hurried away, whistling as he went.
"He's whistling to keep his courage up. O Max! poor Max! I wish I could give that man the worst kind of a flogging!" Lulu sighed to herself, then turned and went into the house.