None for mamma.

One for me.

And the other six all for papa.
You lazy old darling, you hate answering letters, don't you ?" pursued Magdalen, dropping the postman's character and assuming the daughter's.
"How you will grumble and fidget in the study! and how you will wish there were no such things as letters in the world! and how red your nice old bald head will get at the top with the worry of writing the answers; and how many of the answers you will leave until tomorrow after all! _The Bristol Theater's open, papa,_" she whispered, slyly and suddenly, in her father's ear; "I saw it in the newspaper when I went to the library to get the key.

Let's go to-morrow night!" While his daughter was chattering, Mr.Vanstone was mechanically sorting his letters.

He turned over the first four in succession and looked carelessly at the addresses.