"Here have I been near blaming him for no finding a wy, and very like he doesna ken we want him to find a wy!" How to inform Tommy without letting Grizel know?
She had tried twice long ago to teach him to write, but he found it harder on the wrists than the heaviest luggage.

It was not safe for him even to think of the extra twirl that turned an _n_ into an _m_, without first removing any knick-knacks that might be about.

Nevertheless, he now proposed a third set-to, and Grizel acquiesced, though she thought it but another of his inventions to keep her from brooding.
The number of words in the English tongue excited him, and he often lost all by not confining the chase to one, like a dog after rabbits.
Fortunately, he knew which words he wanted to bag.
"Change at Tilliedrum!" "Tickets! show your tickets!" and the like, he much enjoyed meeting in the flesh, so to speak.
"Let's see 'Find a wy,' Grizel," he would say.

"Ay, ay, and is that the crittur!" and soon the sly fellow could write it, or at least draw it.
He affected an ambition to write a letter to his son on that gentleman's first birthday, and so "Let's see what 'I send you these few scrapes' is like, Grizel." She assured him that this is not essential in correspondence, but all the letters he had ever heard read aloud began thus, and he got his way.
Anon Master Shiach was surprised and gratified to receive the following epistle: "My dear sir, I send you these few scrapes to tell you as you have found a way to be a year of age the morn.

All tickets ready in which Gavinia joins so no more at present I am, sir, your obed't father Corp Shiach." The fame of this letter went abroad, but not a soul knew of the next.
It said: "My dear Sir, I send you these few scrapes to tell you as Grizel needs cheering up.