innocently, 'Why, what have we here?' 'It is manna that fell in the
night,' answered Jack, with an exasperating snicker. 'You didn't
know mutton, but I thought, being a Sunday-school teacher, you would
know something about manna.' (N.B.--He alludes to that time I took
the infant class for Miss Jones, and they all ran out to see a
military funeral procession.) 'I wish you knew something about
manners,' snapped I; and then Aunt Truth had to warn us both, as
usual. Oh dear! it's a weary world. I'd just like to get Jack at a
disadvantage once!

[Next paragraph crossed out]
We climbed Pico Negro yesterday. Bell, Geoff, Phil, and I had quite
an experience in losing the trail. I will tell you about it. Just
as -

(Goodness me! what have I written? Oh, Elsie, pray excuse those
HORIZONTAL EVIDENCES of my forgetfulness and disobedience. I have
bumped my head against the table three times, as penance, and will
now try to turn my thoughts into right channels. This letter is a
black-and-white evidence that _I_ have not a frivolous order of mind,
and have always been misunderstood from my birth up to this date.)

We have had beautiful weather since--but no, of course Phil will tell
you about the weather, for that is scarcely an amusing topic. I do
want to be as prudent as possible, for Uncle Doc is going to read all
the letters (not, of course, aloud) and see whether we have fulfilled
our specific obligations.

(I just asked Bell whether 'specific' had a 'c' or an's in the
middle, and she answered '"c," of course,' with such an air, you