There were not many letters from the absent pair of sisters; they seemed to be much too busy and happy to write, and appeared to be “seeing everything,” and to be only just able to put down the names of the wonders. The chief of all, however, was that kind Mrs. Penrose had actually taken them to Portsmouth for a couple of nights, to see the _Ramilies_, in which she was going to remain till it sailed. They had sat in the Admiral’s cabin, and had slept upon “dear little sofas,” where they wished they always slept; they had been in Papa’s cabin, which was half filled up with a great gun, that can only be fired out at the window (scratched out, and “port-hole” put in.) “Oh, how delightful! I wish I had a big gun in my room!” cried Johnnie. And they had seen Sam’s chest; and Sam did look so nice in his uniform; and he had dined with them every day. They had dined late, with the grown-up people; and the Admiral was so kind, only rather funny. Annie wished she were as old as Bessie, as much as John wished to have a gun filling up his whole bed-room. The next day, their Papa had taken them into the country to see Lady Seabury, Bessie’s godmother, a very old lady indeed, older than Grandmamma, and who could not move out of her chair. “She gave me—” wrote Bessie. There again something had been scratched out, and “a kiss” written overhead. That something was quite a long word, but it had been very completely blotted out; not like the “window,” which had only a couple of cross bars, through which it could be plainly read; but there had plainly been first an attempt at smearing it out with the finger, and that not succeeding, an immense shiny black mess, like the black shade of a chafer grub, had been put down on it, and had come off on the opposite side of the sheet. What could the word be? Annie and David were both sure they could read the lines through all the blot. The first letter was certainly S. “But,” said Miss Fosbrook, “do you think it is quite honourable to try to read what Bessie did not mean us to see?” They did not quite enter into this, but they left off trying. “Mamma had been out in the carriage several times; and they were all coming home on Saturday week”—that was the best news of all—“and then we have a secret too for Miss Fosbrook.” David said he was tired of secrets, and would not guess. Annie guessed a great deal; but Miss Fosbrook thought more about the word she would not try to read. She began to have a strong suspicion from whom the post-office order had come, and was the more uneasy about the spending of David’s half sovereign; but she durst say nothing, for she knew it could do no good if he felt himself compelled against his own will; and she saw that he was full of thought.