“It is ‘child’ or else ‘wild,’� Lady Cranberry said, dropping her eyeglasses.
“As if an infant of six months old could be called ‘wild’!� giggled Mrs. Lovelace-Legge. She read on:
“‘Now the doctors have positively ordered him home, and we have not the least idea where to send him. In this dilemma I thought of you. The General shakes his head, but I have carried my point, and Dumps and his nurse sail by the “Ramjowrah� next Thursday, and when arrived in London will come straight to you. I have every faith in your goodness of heart, and know that poor dear Dumps could be placed in charge of no kinder friend. He is extremely affectionate—from pursuits which ruin many of the most promising young.’�
“Humph!� ejaculated the puzzled Lady Cranberry.
“Perhaps Julia means tearing his clothes and sucking the paint off his toys?� suggested the second-best dearest friend.
Mrs. Lovelace-Legge read on: “‘Men in India if you have read Rudyard Kipling I need not be more definite we shall look to your gentle influence to wean him.’�
“One thing at least is clear,� remarked Lady Cranberry. “The child is not yet weaned. As to your correspondent’s style, Lotta——� She said no more, but in her mind she harbored a most definite conviction that Julia Carabyne drank. “Eau de Cologne or red lavender,� she thought, “or pure, unadulterated cognac. I pity the General from my heart!�
A few more confused and comma-less paragraphs, and the letter wound up.
“You think I did right?� Mrs. Lovelace-Legge glanced round at her preparations. “But, indeed, I had no choice. How could any woman with a heart—and a nursery——�
“Both unoccupied?� said Lady Cranberry.