"You mean, how long does it take me to write a letter?"
He nodded his head vehemently.
"Well," I began, "it rather depends, you know, on what there is to say." I saw dissatisfaction cloud his face, and hastened to add, "Oh, well, about ten minutes."
At that his expression cleared to astonishment. Passing that emotion, it went to incredulity. It was a beautifully legible face, though everything but clean. He made up his mind.
"Will yer come," he asked, "and write a letter for my granmother?"
We were on the heels of adventure now; no one could say what new country this might lead to.
"Where does she live?" I asked.
"Just round the corner, two doors from my Great-aunt Maria's," he said, astonished that I should not know,
"Lead on," I said, concealing my ignorance of the residence of great-aunt Maria.
He took me by the hand, which I could not in courtesy decline, and led me down Paradise Rents.