And he held out a sheet of bluish foolscap, on which were written some dozen imitations of that time-worn copy, "Be good and you will be happy"; with an occasional "Beauty soon fades," and "Evil communications corrupt good manners."
"What do you think of that?"
"Very neat and very legible."
"That is Hannah’s latest. The only specimens of her writing to be found. Not much like some scrawls we have seen, eh?"
"No."
"Mrs. Belden says this girl has known how to write as good as this for more than a week. Took great pride in it, and was continually talking about how smart she was." Leaning over, he whispered in my ear, "This thing you have in your hand must have been scrawled some time ago, if she did it." Then aloud: "But let us look at the paper she used to write on."
Dashing open the covers of the boxes on the table, he took out the loose sheets lying inside, and scattered them out before me. One glance showed they were all of an utterly different quality from that used in the confession. "This is all the paper in the house," said he.
"Are you sure of that?" I asked, looking at Mrs. Belden, who stood in a sort of maze before us. "Was n’t there one stray sheet lying around somewhere, foolscap or something like that, which she might have got hold of and used without your knowing it?"
"No, sir; I don’t think so. I had only these kinds; besides, Hannah had a whole pile of paper like this in her room, and would n’t have been apt to go hunting round after any stray sheets."
"But you don’t know what a girl like that might
