t.

Chapter II

But Diana! That is another story. Open the windows wide, let in the
fresh air, the whispering of trees, the song of the birds, and all that
is good and beautiful in nature. The very thought of Diana is sunshine.
She is as God meant us to be, happy and good, believing in the goodness
of others, slow to find evil in them, quick to forgive it, infinitely
pitiful of the sorrows of the suffering. This is Diana, and she has
three children, Betty, Hugh, and Sara. Allah be praised!

You do not imagine that I dislike Zerlina, do you? I should be sorry to
give that impression. But a professional aunt must be above all things
absolutely straightforward and truthful.

I had been engaged for weeks to go to Hames for the first shoot, and an
urgent telegram from Zerlina, followed by a feverish letter, failed to
move me from my purpose. The telegram, by the way, ran as follows: "Can
you Tuesday for fortnight. Do. Urgent. ZERLINA." I wondered why Zerlina
elected to leave out "come." If I had been strictly economizing, I
should have saved on the "do." The letter followed in due course of
time:--

Dear Betty, I have just sent a wire in frantic haste asking you to come
[that was exactly what she had not done] on Tuesday for a fortnight.
I should so much like you to see something of the children, and Baby
really is very fascinating. She is such a fat child, much fatter than
Muriel's baby, who is six months older. The fact is, Jim is rather run
down; nothing much, of course, but I think a change would do him good,
and the Staveleys have asked us to go to them, and I don't like to
refuse, and we thought it would be such a good opportunity to have my
bedroom re-papered and painted. I don't believe you would smell the
paint, and in any case I believe there is some new kind of paint which
smells delicious, like stephanotis, I am told, so I will order that. I
would not ask you to come just as we are going away, because I should
like to be at home to see you, but I could go away so happily if you
were with the children; I often think for a woman without children,
you are so wonderfully understanding, about children, I mean. You could
manage nurse, too, I am sure. She is in one of her moods just now, and I
feel I must get away from all worries for a little.

Yours,

ZERLINA

P. S.--Jim is so well, and would send his love if he were here.

I telegraphed back, of course, directly I got Zerlina's telegram,
saying I