"P.S. What _have_ you been doing? Our distinguished guests, to say
nothing of my uncle, seem to be in a great fuss about you. I overheard
them talking when I was pretending to arrange some flowers. One of them
called you a sanctimonious prig and an obstinate donkey, and another
answered--I think it was Sir Robert --'No doubt, but obstinate donkeys
can kick and have been known to upset other people's applecarts ere
now.' Is the Sahara Syndicate the applecart? If so, I'll forgive you.

"P.P.S. Remember that we will walk to church together to-morrow, but
come down to breakfast in knickerbockers or something to put them off,
and I'll do the same--I mean I'll dress as if I were going to golf.
We can turn into Christians later. If we don't--dress like that, I
mean--they'll guess and all want to come to church, except the Jews,
which would bring the judgment of Heaven on us.

"P.P.P.S. Don't be careless and leave this note lying about, for the
under-footman who waits upon you reads all the letters. He steams them
over a kettle. Smith the butler is the only respectable man in this
house."

Alan laughed outright as he finished this peculiar and outspoken
epistle, which somehow revived his spirits, that since the previous day
had been low enough. It refreshed him. It was like a breath of
frosty air from an open window blowing clean and cold into a scented,
overheated room. He would have liked to keep it, but remembering
Barbara's injunctions and the under-footman, threw it onto the fire and
watched it burn. Jeekie coughed to intimate that it was time for his
master to dress, and Alan turned and looked at him in an absent-minded