“Not one!” exclaimed Marcus; “and is that the beginning of the first letter?” glancing at the sheet which contained the date and address.
“Yes, sir,” said Oscar.
“Ah, you have been reading the newspaper, as well as watching hawks,” continued Marcus, as his eye fell upon the printed sheet.
“I got that to see about the date,” replied Oscar, forgetting that sometimes there is little difference between half of a truth and a lie.
“What have you been doing all the forenoon, then?” inquired Marcus.
“The ink is so thick that I couldn’t write,” added Oscar.
“Let me try it,” said Marcus; and he seated himself in Oscar’s chair, and, looking for some waste paper, drew out the sheet which his cousin had covered with all sorts of flourishes, figures, puzzles, etc. “I think the ink must flow pretty freely, if it is thick,” he quietly added.
Having satisfied himself that the ink was not to blame, Marcus said he was sorry the letters were not finished, as he was expecting to drive over to an adjoining town, in the afternoon, and intended to let Oscar accompany him, if his task was completed. Oscar said he thought he could finish the letters after he got back; but his cousin was far from agreeing with him in this opinion.
“No,” said Marcus, “you will hardly get through this afternoon, supposing you work diligently. I think you had better not stop even for dinner, but I will bring you up something to eat, so that you need lose no time. I want you to finish the four letters before you leave the room, if possible.”
Oscar hardly knew whether to consider himself a prisoner, or not, so pleasantly had Marcus addressed him. He concluded, however, that it was time to go to work, and was soon deeply engaged in the letter to his mother. Now that his mind was aroused, and his attention fixed, he found no difficulty in writing, and the letter was about completed, when Marcus appeared, with a light repast, instead of the accustomed substantial noonday meal.