"There," I said, "you can see the result of your dreadful example. Even this innocent child has learnt to pilfer my writing materials."
"John," said his mother, "would you like to search your father?"
"What's 'search'?" said John.
"Feel in his coat pockets and see if you can find a letter."
John was quite willing. He inserted a pudgy hand into one pocket after another, and finally extracted a rather crumpled letter.
"Hurrah!" I said. "He's got it."
"What is it?" she said.
"It is a courteous communication from Messrs. Wilfer and Wontner, highly commending the virtues of their renowned Hygeia tabloids, two to be taken daily after dinner."
"It's the most private and urgent letter I ever heard of. And now, I suppose, you'll withdraw your most unjust decree against our using the writing-table."
"Not at all," I said; "I make it stricter than ever. If you hadn't used my table I should have looked in my coat pocket and found the letter long ago."