‘And what did I say?’ asked Merton.
‘Something about preferences, which we did not understand.’
‘References, perhaps,’ said Merton. ‘Mr. Apsley, may I ask whether you wrote this letter yourself?’
‘No; None-so-pretty printed it on a kind of sewing machine. She told us to come and see you, so we came. I called her None-so-pretty, out of a fairy story. She does not mind. Gran says she thinks she rather likes it.’
‘I shouldn’t wonder if she did,’ said Merton. ‘But what is her real name?’
‘She made me promise not to tell. She was staying at the Home Farm when we were staying at Gran’s.’
‘Is Gran your grandmother?’
‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Apsley.
Hereon Bats remarked that she was ‘velly hungalee.’
‘To be sure,’ said Merton. ‘Luncheon shall be brought at once.’ He rang the bell, and, going out, interpellated the office boy.