"Mr. Gordon, may I ask you a question?"
"Certainly," I assented.
"It is one I should ask papa or Fred, but I am afraid they might not tell me the truth. You will, won't you?" she begged, very earnestly.
"I will," I promised.
"Supposing," she continued, "that it became known that you have those letters? Would it do our side any harm?"
I thought for a moment, and then shook my head. "No new proxies could arrive here in time for the election," I said, "and the ones I have will not be voted."
She still looked doubtful, and asked, "Then why did papa say just now,
'Fortunately'?"
"He merely meant that it was safer they shouldn't know."
"Then it is better to keep it a secret?" she asked, anxiously.
"I suppose so," I said, and then, added, "Why should you be afraid of asking your father?"