English, in exchange of my helping him with his French. My mind is
troubled and I think he can express my thought, so he has taken the
pen in hand, and I, sitting on a little stool at his feet, and gazing
up at him, try to make him understand what is in my mind.

But first of all Mr. Teddy wants to ask you to forgive him, if he
seems to be "butting in" and spoiling the game between you and your
godchild. Honor bright, he didn't mean to do it. It was fate. Just
blind, mysterious, and merciless fate that decreed that things should
happen as they did. Mr. Teddy may be a blessing in disguise, anyway
he couldn't be helped, and he has no excuse to offer, except, perhaps,
that he is alone in the world and homesick in a foreign land. He is
sorry you and he can't fight a duel over the situation, but I am very
glad. And Mr. Teddy wants to tell you, very seriously that he takes
off his hat to any little fellow of your size who can do the plucky
thing you have done, and keep it up so well. If grown up men all had
more of your spirit, he says, the war would be over long ago.

The object of this letter is as follows: I (your godchild) wish to
make amends. I wrote you yesterday, and didn't answer your letter.
Not a word did I say about it, except that I had received it, then
I prattled away all about another would-be godfather for whom you,
naturally, have no earthly use. And to-day my heart is filled with
remorse and my head is filled with fears lest you should think your
dear godchild is ungrateful, fickle, and flighty. I want to tell you
how every detail of your life--from knob-polishing and bug-swallowing
to poetry-writing is dear and precious to me. How I wish I could do
the same! How I live in eager expectation of your letters; how I gloat
and ponder over them when they come; and how deep is the gloom into
which I am plunged when they do not come! Mr. Teddy knows all that,