od."

And then luckily she went away, for I was beginning to freeze to the
sheets with horror.

I got out of bed to write this. You'll be shocked too, I know. The
way royalties are snuffed out one after the other! How glad I am I'm
not one and you're not one, and we can live safely and fruitfully
outside the range of bombs. Poor things. It is very horrible. Yet
they never seem to abdicate or want not to be royalties, so that I
suppose they think it worth it on the whole. But Frau Berg was
terrible. What a bloodthirsty woman. I wonder if the other boarders
will talk like that. I do pray not, for I hate the very word blood.
And why does she say there'll be war? They will catch the murderers
and punish them as they've done before, and there'll be an end of it.
There wasn't war when the Empress of Austria was killed, or the King
and Queen of Servia. I think Frau Berg wanted to make me creep. She
has a fixed idea that English people are every one of them much too
comfortable, and should at all costs be made to know what being
uncomfortable is like. For their good, I suppose.

_Berlin, Tuesday, June 30th, 1914_.

Darling mother,

How splendid that you're going to Switzerland next month with the
Cunliffes. I do think it is glorious, and it will make you so strong
for the winter. And think how much nearer you'll be to me! I always
suspected Mrs. Cunliffe of being secretly an angel, and now I know it.
Your letter has just come and I simply had to tell you how glad I am.

Chris.

This isn't a letter, it's a cry of joy.

_Berlin, Sunday, July 5th, 1914_.

My blessed little mother,

It has been so hot this week. We've been sweltering up here under the
roof. If you are having it anything like this at Chertsey the sooner
you persuade the Cunliffes to leave for Switzerland the better. Just
the sight of snow on the mountains out of your window would keep you
cool. You know I told you my bedroom looks onto the Lutzowstrasse and
the sun beats on it nearly all day, and flies in great numbers have
taken to coming up here and listening to me play, and it is difficult
to practise satisfactorily while they walk about enraptured on my neck.
I can't swish them away, because both my hands are busy. I wish I had
a tail.

Frau Berg says there never used to be flies in this room, and suggests
with some sternness that I brought them with me,--the eggs, I suppose,
in my luggage. She is inclined