The post to Egypt is not a very long one, but measured by the emotions Evangeline went through between the earliest day when Evan’s answer could be expected, and the day when it came, the interval was about a year and a half. The extra length of time was put in three strips. One between the moment when the postman knocked at the front door and the time it took the maid to examine and bring up the letters. The second was when Evangeline was out in the afternoon and remembered that another post would be there when she got back; it took the length of several days to look at the letters on the hall table as she crossed the threshold and judge from their appearance whether they were all circulars. The third age was when she and Teresa were talking in their bedrooms before going to bed and went through their nightly review of all the things he would be likely to say, and compared them with the likelihood of his saying nothing at all. The nights were all right, for Evangeline, when in health, would sleep though the earth cracked asunder. One day people came to lunch and stayed talking, so she did not go out, and the maid brought the letters to Lady Varens before anyone had remembered the postman.
“Here’s yours, Evangeline,” Lady Varens said, passing it to her. “Do you know whether the children have gone out yet? I wanted them to call at the butcher’s for me. He didn’t send the mutton I ordered this morning.”
“I’ll go and see,” said Evangeline, and she carried off her letter. Ten minutes or a quarter-of-an-hour went by, and then Ivor came in dressed for going out.
“Mother’s being a dog on the stairth,” he said. “It’s dangerous; you’d better not go past, but we’re going to do your message now if Nurth can get past.”
“Can’t you say your s’s yet, darling?” said the visitor. “Well, I’m quite shocked! Come and tell me where you are going.”
“Can’t thtop,” said Ivor. “You oughtn’t to path remarkth. Good-bye.”
He went out, leaving the door open, and Teresa got up and shut it. She heard cacklings from the baby and Ivor and respectful protests from the nurse near the top landing. “Now go off,” she heard Evangeline say in a tone she had nearly forgotten. “I don’t know where the dog has gone; probably to the butcher’s. You may find him there.” Teresa shut the door behind her. “Chips!” she called gently, “shall I come up or are you coming down?”
“I don’t know what I am going to do,” said a dishevelled head through the banisters. “What about those people? ‘Massacre them all!’ as the Peace Delegate said.” Nurse, carrying the baby, brushed past with an apology, and went down, herding Ivor before her.
“It is quite all right,” said Evangeline. “Very much all right. Excessively all right.” Teresa sat down on a lower step.