"You'll gather that it is a rather rummy place. It is. The windows in my bedroom are mended with brown paper, and there are holes in the floor you could put your foot through. Not that my father's son need mind little hardships. But I am amused to think of what the mater would say, with her notions of things.
"By the way, if you're in Brook Street any time, don't repeat what I've told you. The mater hated my coming here. She has some extraordinary prejudice against Graydon, though he scarcely seems to remember her. But as I've given up my desire for soldiering to please her, it's my turn now to please myself by reading for this Foreign Office grind with my father's old friend.
"A word more and I am done. You'll think me as long-winded as some of those old women at the clubs. But their ways here are too delicious. The establishment is managed by one old woman—Bridget, who seems mistress, maid, and man rolled, in one. Well, the morning after I came, when I rang for my shaving water there was no response. At last I heard a foot go by my door, and I looked out cautiously. It was Bridget, and to her I made my request. 'Why, bless the boy!' she said, staring at me, 'You haven't been pullin' that old bell that's never rung in the memory of man?' I assured her I had. 'Well, then,' she said, 'goodness help your little wit! An' so ye want shavin' water, do ye? Sure, I thought ye wor a bit of a boy, that never wanted shavin' at all, at all!' However, she brought me the water obligingly, in an extraordinary piece of kitchen crockery. 'I suppose you're used to valetin',' she said. ''Twas Misther Mick spoiled me entirely for other young gentlemen. He'd dart down for his shavin' water—aye, many a time before I had the kitchen fire lit.' Mr. Mick was apparently a former pupil; I often hear of him.
"There's any amount of sport here, but I won't tantalise you. I like Graydon better every day; he's a dear old boy, and though he's in the clouds half the time when he's supposed to be coaching me, I can see that he knows more than half the tutors in London put together. He's a delightful companion out of doors, a good sportsman, and as young as the youngest.
"It's a mystery his being buried here. But I've no time to try to unriddle it now, and you'll never get as far as this, I expect. Good-bye, old fellow—I'm extremely well satisfied with my present quarters, and pity you in Knightsbridge. I suppose town is getting empty."
When this enormous epistle was finished and sealed, the young gentleman put it in his pocket and went downstairs. His pace was hastened by the fact that he could hear the joyful yelping of dogs in the hall, from which he gathered that someone besides himself was bent on outdoor exercise. Indeed, as he reached the hall and caught his hat from one of the dusty antlers, he saw the two younger Miss Graydons setting out amid their leaping and yelping escorts. He hurried after and overtook them.
"May I come with you?" he asked eagerly. "I've a very important letter to post, and if you're going to the village you might perhaps point out the post-office. I'm such a duffer at finding out things for myself."
"But we're turning our backs on the village," said Miss Sylvia, "going in exactly the opposite direction."
"Oh, well, then, it doesn't matter; the letter can wait till another time."