“No, daddie.”
“Are ye sure?”
“Quite sure, for I’ve scratched it into a hole right through the paper.”
“Never mind, it’s all the better.”
“Humph!” interjected Mrs Gaff. “He’ll think we began ‘dear sir,’ and then changed our minds and scratched out the ‘dear!’”
To this Gaff replied that what was done couldn’t be undone, and ordered Tottie to “fire away once more.”
“What next,” asked the scribe, a good deal flurried and nervous by this time, in consequence of which she dipped the pen much too deep, and brought up a globule of ink, which fell on the paper just under the word that had been written down with so much pains, making a blot as large as a sixpence.
The Bu’ster came down on it like lightning with the blot-sheet, and squashed it into an irregular mass bigger than half-a-crown.
For this he received another open-hander on the ear, and was summarily dismissed to the sea-beach.
By this time the family tea-hour had arrived, so Mrs Gaff proposed an adjournment until after tea. Tottie, who was now blotting the letter with an occasional tear, seconded the motion, which was carried by acclamation. While the meal was being prepared, Gaff fondled Tottie until she was restored to her wonted equanimity, so that after tea the task was resumed with spirit. Words and ideas seemed to flow more easily, and the letter was finally concluded, amid many sighs of relief, about bed-time.