“I don’t know what you mean by Number One,” said Robinette, haughtily, as she passed in at the door.
“You will, when you’re Number Two!” rejoined Carnaby, stooping to pinch Lord Roberts’ tail till the hero yelped aloud.
XVI
TWO LETTERS
Lavendar tore up his fourth sheet of paper and began afresh. “Dear Mrs. Loring.” No, that would not do; he took another sheet, and began again:––
“My dear Mrs. Loring,––Your commission for old Mrs. Prettyman has taken some little time to execute, for I had to go to two or three shops before finding a chair ‘with green cushions, and a wide seat, so comfortable that it would almost act as an anæsthetic if her rheumatism happened to be bad, and yet quite suitable for a cottage room.’ These were my orders, I think, and like all your orders they demand something better than the mere perfunctory observance. My own proportions differing a good deal from those of the old lady, it is still an open question whether what seemed comfortable to me 211 will be quite the same to her. I can but hope so, and the chair will be dispatched at once.
“London is noisy and dusty, and grimy and stuffy, and, to one man at least, very, very dull. A boat on Greenshaw ferry seems the only spot in the world where any gaiety is to be found. You can hear the cuckoos calling across the river as you read this, no doubt, and Carnaby is rendered happier than he deserves by being allowed to row you down to tell Mrs. Prettyman about the chair. I feel as if, like the Japanese, I could journey a hundred miles to worship that wonderful tree.––Don’t let the blossoms fall until I come!