Duckie? I call her Mrs. Mackenzie, after
that lady in The Newcomes who talked the Colonel to death. Mrs.
Mackenzie is heavy, elderly, and strong-willed. I am acquainted with
every bone, tendon, and sinew in her body, having to lift her into a
coop behind the cottage where she will not wake Nurse at dawn with her
eternal quacking. She has heretofore slept under Nurse's bedroom
window and dislikes change of any kind. So lucky she has no offspring!
I tremble to think of what maternal example might do in such a
talkative family!

"Stoke Revel is as it was and ever will be, world without end; only
Aunt de Tracy is crosser than when you are here and life is not as
gay, although Carnaby does his dear, cubbish best. If ever you
desire your mental jewels to shine at their brightest; if ever you
wish a tolerably good disposition to seem like that of an angel; if
ever, in a fit of vanity, you would like to appear as a blend of
Apollo, Lancelot, Demosthenes, Prince Charlie, Ajax, and Solomon,
just fly to Stoke Revel and become part of the household. Assume
nothing; simply appear, and the surroundings will do the rest; like
the penny-in-the-slot arrangements. Seen upon a background of Bates,
William, Benson, Big Cummins, the Curate, Miss Smeardon, and may I
dare to add, the lady of the Manor herself,--any living breathing
man takes on an Olympian majesty. I shouldn't miss you in Boston
nor in London; perhaps even in Weston I might find a wretched
substitute, but here you are priceless!

"I have some news for you. On Saturday Miss Smeardon and I went to a
garden party. That was what it was called. The thermometer was only
slightly below zero when we started, and that luminary masquerading as
the sun was pretending to shine. Soon after we arrived at the festive
scene, there were gusts of wind and rain. I sought the shelter of a
spreading tree, the kitchen fire not being available, and I was joined
there by the hostess, who presented her niece, your Miss Meredith.

"Dear Mr. Lavendar, this is a subject we cannot write about, you and
I. I am loyal to my sex, and what Miss Meredith said, and looked, and
did, are all as sacred to me as they ought to be. I only want to tell
you that she is happy; that she has this very week become engaged, and
is going to India with her husband in a month. Now that little
cankerworm, that has been gnawing at your roots of life for the last
year or two, has done its worst, and you are perfectly free to