P. S.--Our little Fred. is quite down with the scarlet fever. Potiphar
says I mustn’t expose myself, so I don’t go into the room; but
Mrs. Jollup, the nurse, tells me through the keyhole how he is.
Mr. P. sleeps in the room next the nursery, so as not to carry the
infection to me. He looks very solemn as he walks down town. I hope it
won’t spoil Fred’s complexion. I should be so sorry to have him a
little fright! Poor little thing!
P. S. 2d.--Isn’t it funny about the music?