“Very likely. And then I can make out Riseholme, and it isn’t ‘mouse,’ it’s quite clearly ‘Museum,’ and then—I can’t read that, but it looks English, and then ‘opera,’ that’s Olga again, and ‘dead,’ which is the mulberry tree. And then ‘It is better to work than to be idle. Think not——’ something——”
“‘Bark,’” said Georgie. “No, ‘hard.’”
“Yes. ‘Think not hard thoughts of any, but turn thy mind to improving work.’—Georgie, isn’t that wonderful?—and then it goes off into Arabic, what a pity! It might have been more about the museum. I shall certainly send all the first Arabic scripts to the British Museum.”
Georgie considered this.
“Somehow I don’t believe that is what Abfou means,” said he. “He says Riseholme Museum, not British Museum. You can’t possibly get ‘British’ out of that word.”
Georgie left Daisy still attempting to detect more English among Arabic passages and engaged himself to come in again after tea for fresh investigation. Within a minute of his departure Daisy’s telephone rang.
“How tiresome these interruptions are,” said Daisy to herself, as she hurried to the instrument. “Yes, yes. Who is it?”
Georgie’s voice had the composure of terrific excitement.
“It’s me,” he said. “The second post has just come in, and a letter from Olga. ‘From Olga,’ you remember.”
“No!” said Daisy. “Do tell me if she says anything about——”