Mrs. Fairbank took the letter from him with as near an approach to displeasure in her manner as she ever showed towards Jack.
"You are pleased to be impatient," she remarked, with a sound of reproof.
"Exceedingly, ma'am." Jack was always extra polite when bent upon his own way.
Mrs. Fairbank examined the foreign missive afresh, studied the stamp, and at length broke the seal, taking out a tiny enclosure, which was addressed to Molly.
"From Roy," she said. "I think"—and there was a dubious pause—"I think I may permit you to read this to yourself, child. Doubtless your mamma has already seen it."
Molly fled to the window-seat, curled herself up there, and plunged into the delights of Roy's epistle, seeing and hearing nothing else. Mrs. Fairbank's face of growing concern failed to reach her perceptions, and a murmured consultation which took place might have gone on in China for all the impression that it made upon Molly. Roy's prim round handwriting spoke to her as follows:—
"My dear Molly,—We got here yesterday all right, and it pours with rain to-day, so I am going to write to you. It is great fun being abroad, and all the children jabber away in French lingo, and don't know one word of English. I tried to speak to one man in French, but he didn't know what I meant any better than when I talked English, so I think they must be rather stupid, don't you?
"We had such a voyage. It took ten whole hours getting from Dover to Calais, and I was dreadfully ill, and I haven't got right yet. My back aches like anything, but I don't mean to make a fuss, because that wouldn't be like a soldier.
"We had to stop a night in Calais; they do fidget so about papers and things, there was no getting on sooner. And then we had a chaise de poste, with three horses side by side, and the horses were harnessed with ropes, not like our English harness. The ropes broke twice, and the postillions jumped off, just like monkeys, to put things right. They didn't seem to mind the ropes breaking one bit, and Den says he supposes they are used to it. But we hadn't got used to it.
"We slept one night at Montreuil, and another at Amiens, and then we got to Chantilly. And the roads were most horribly bad, and so they are here in Paris, and when it rains hard, like to-day, the streets are flooded, and it smells so, and nobody can walk along without wading, at least in some parts.