actually a letter-box on our own floor, twenty yards down the passage. I
took the letter along and dropped it into the slit.

Then a wonderful thing happened. It went

_Flipperty-flipperty-flipperty-flipperty-flipperty-flipperty-flipperty-
flipperty-flipperty-flipperty--FLOP._

I listened intently, hoping for more ... but that was all. Deeply
disappointed that it was over, but absolutely thrilled with my
discovery, I hurried back to Celia.

"Any letters you want posted?" I said in an off-hand way.

"No, thank you," she said.

"Have you written any while we've been here?"

"I don't think I've had anything to write."

"I think," I said reproachfully, "it's quite time you wrote to
your--your bank or your mother or somebody."

She looked at me and seemed to be struggling for words.

"I know exactly what you're going to say," I said, "but don't say it;
write a little letter instead."

"Well, as a matter of fact I _must_ just write a note to the laundress."