“I don't know--I don't know. The man under him who got Daddy's place when he--when the awful thing happened--he was always jealous of your Father because Daddy was so clever and everyone thought such a lot of him. And Daddy never quite trusted that man.” “Couldn't we explain all that to someone?” “Nobody will listen,” said Mother, very bitterly, “nobody at all. Do you suppose I've not tried everything? No, my dearest, there's nothing to be done. All we can do, you and I and Daddy, is to be brave, and patient, and--” she spoke very softly--“to pray, Bobbie, dear.” “Mother, you've got very thin,” said Bobbie, abruptly. “A little, perhaps.” “And oh,” said Bobbie, “I do think you're the bravest person in the world as well as the nicest!” “We won't talk of all this any more, will we, dear?” said Mother; “we must bear it and be brave. And, darling, try not to think of it. Try to be cheerful, and to amuse yourself and the others. It's much easier for me if you can be a little bit happy and enjoy things. Wash your poor little round face, and let's go out into the garden for a bit.” The other two were very gentle and kind to Bobbie. And they did not ask her what was the matter. This was Peter's idea, and he had drilled Phyllis, who would have asked a hundred questions if she had been left to herself. A week later Bobbie managed to get away alone. And once more she wrote a letter. And once more it was to the old gentleman. “My dear Friend,” she said, “you see what is in this paper. It is not true. Father never did it. Mother says someone put the papers in Father's desk, and she says the man under him that got Father's place afterwards was jealous of Father, and Father suspected him a long time. But nobody listens to a word she says, but you are so good and clever, and you found out about the Russian gentleman's wife directly. Can't you find out who did the treason because he wasn't Father upon my honour; he is an Englishman and uncapable to do such things, and then they would let Father out of prison. It is dreadful, and Mother is getting so thin. She told us once to pray for all prisoners and captives. I see now. Oh, do help me--there is only just Mother and me know, and we can't do anything. Peter and Phil don't know. I'll pray for you twice every day as long as I live if you'll only try--just try to find out. Think if it was YOUR Daddy, what you would feel. Oh, do, do, DO help me. With love “I remain Your affectionately little friend “Roberta. P.S. Mother would send her kind regards if she knew I am writing--but it is no use telling her I am, in case you can't do anything. But I know you will. Bobbie with best love.” She cut the account of her Father's trial out of the newspaper with Mother's big cutting-out scissors, and put it in the envelope with her letter.