not a fatal one, though it gave me a very uncomfortable drive.

"The place is certainly very nice, and the house comfortable, though,
of course, it is old-fashioned. I prefer more modern furniture; but
Uncle David seems to think his queer old chairs and table all that can
be desired, and did not appear interested when I told him where we got
our things. I have a large room, rather draughty, but otherwise
pleasant, with plenty of space for clothes, which is a comfort. I do
think it's intensely annoying to be expected to keep your clothes in
your trunk. The view is nice.

"Uncle David seemed quite prepared to treat me as a small boy, but I
fancy I have demonstrated to him that I know my way about--in fact, as
far as city life goes, I should say he knew exceedingly little. I can't
understand any man with money being content to live and die in a hole
like this out-of-the-way place: but I suppose, as you say, Aunt Helen's
death made a difference. Actually, they have not even one motor! and
when I spoke of it Uncle David seemed almost indignant, and said horses
were good enough for him. That is a specimen of the way they are
content to live. He seems quite idiotically devoted to the small child,
and she lives in his pocket. If she weren't so countrified in her ways
she wouldn't be bad looking; but, of course, she is quite the bush
youngster, and, I should think, would find her level pretty quickly
when she goes to school among a lot of smart Melbourne girls. I should
hope so, at any rate, for she is quite spoilt here. It is exactly as
you said--everyone treats her like a sort of tin god, and she evidently
thinks herself someone, and is inclined to regard those older than
herself quite as equals. When I first saw her she had just fallen into
some mud hole, and her appearance would have given you a fit. But what
can you expect?