recisely on This day (Wensdy) fortunite.
You will be glad to heer that I am recuvering fast thanks to
your care and kindness which Is his own words and Gospel truth
and so No more at present from yours to command"

"P. Fogo, Esq."

"per C. Trotter."

"Knowing whats up with the kitchin range you wont look for much
of A dinner."

The answer was brought up by Paul Dearlove early, next morning.
It ran:--

"Respectd Sir,--"

"This is thanking you for your kind and welcome letter just recd,
and shall be proud to accept of the invitation in the spirit in
which it is given you must not mind the kitchin range please as
between them that knows all about it having difficulties at
times with the beef tea which trusting you will overlook we
remain"

"Your obedt servts"

(signed) "Peter Dearlove."

"Paul Dearlove."

"Thomasina has gone into Troy or would have signed too."

To a certain extent this was satisfactory; and Mr. Fogo endeavoured
to possess his soul in patience, and recover with all speed. It was
weary work at first, but as the sick man really began to mend he
found much interest in discussing with Caleb the preparations for the
feast.

"We must not be too ambitious, Caleb. Let the fare be simple--
'_Persicos odi, puer, apparatus_'--as long as it is well cooked and
neatly served."

"I dunno what you means by 'pure apparatus,'" answered Caleb.
"There's a flaw in the range, as you knaw; but 'tes so clane as
scrubbin' 'll make et."

And, indeed, when the evening arrived with the mellow twilight of
July, and the Twins with a double knock, the arrangement of the
table, as well as the smell of cooking which pervaded the front hall,
did Caleb all credit. The dining-room was bare alike of carpet and
pictures, but the floor had been scoured until the boards glistened
whitely; and two red ensigns, borrowed by Caleb from the British
mercantile marine, served to hide certain defects in the wallpaper.

Here Mr. Fogo sat awaiting his guests; for the preparation of the
drawing-room would have overtaxed Caleb's resources.

"Miss Thomasina Dearlove, and Messrs. Peter and Paul ditto!"

Mr. Fogo arose with a flush on his wasted cheek, held Tamsin's hand
for a moment, and then, bending, kissed it with grave courtesy