I had a cold, but that was all.

I say, Rollitt, you were an awful brick helping us down that night." "Nonsense!" said Rollitt, pulling out his paper and going on writing.
"Here are two letters for you," said the boy.
Rollitt motioned him gruffly to lay them down on the table and depart-- which he did gladly.
Rollitt went on writing.

It may be no breach of confidence if we allow the reader to glance over his shoulder.
"Dear Mother,--You ask me if I am happy, and how I like school.

I am not happy, and I hate Fellsgarth.

Nobody cares about me.