"
On opening his portfolio, the captain found himself without a single
sheet of foreign letter-paper. He told this difficulty to his wife, as
it was his habit to tell her all his difficulties; and he found her, as
usual, able to give him assistance.
"There is always foreign letter-paper in papa's desk," she said; "you
can use that."
"But, my dear Rosy, I could not think of opening your father's desk in
his absence."
"And why not?" cried Rosamond, laughing. "Do you think papa has any
secrets hidden there; or that he keeps some mysterious packet of old
love-letters tied up with a blue ribbon, which he would not like your
prying eyes to discover? You may open the desk, George. I give you my
permission; and if papa should be angry, the blame shall fall upon me
alone."
The desk was a large old-fashioned piece of furniture, which stood in
the corner of Captain Duncombe's favourite sitting-room.
"But how am I to open this ponderous piece of machinery?" asked George.
"It seems to be locked."
"It is locked," answered his wife. "Luckily I happen to have a key
which precisely fits it. There, sir, is the key; and now I leave you to
devote yourself to business, while I go to see about dinner."
She held up her pretty rosy lips to be kissed, and then tripped away,
leaving the captain to achieve a duty for which he had no particular
relish.
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