mong us, O
my readers, could have withstood that temptation?

Such was the circuitous course of Mark's letter; but as it left
Chaldicotes on Saturday evening, and reached Mrs. Robarts on the
following morning, or would have done, but for that intervening
Sunday, doing all its peregrinations during the night, it may be held
that its course of transport was not inconveniently arranged. We,
however, will travel by a much shorter route. Robin, in the course of
his daily travels, passed, first the post-office at Framley, then the
Framley Court back entrance, and then the vicar's house, so that on
this wet morning Jemima cook was not able to make use of his services
in transporting this letter back to her mistress; for Robin had got
another village before him, expectant of its letters.

"Why didn't thee leave it, mon, with Mr. Applejohn at the Court?" Mr.
Applejohn was the butler who took the letter-bag. "Thee know'st as
how missus was there." And then Robin, mindful of the tea and toast,
explained to her courteously how the law made it imperative on him to
bring the letter to the very house that was indicated, let the owner
of the letter be where she might; and he laid down the law very
satisfactorily with sundry long-worded quotations. Not to much
effect, however, for the housemaid called him an oaf; and Robin would
decidedly have had the worst of it had not the gardener come in and
taken his part. "They women knows nothin', and understands nothin',"
said the gardener. "Give us hold of the letter. I'll take it up to
the house. It's the master's fist." And then Robin postman went on
one way, and the gardener, he went the other. The gardener never
disliked an excuse for going up to the Court gardens, even on so wet
a day as this.

Mrs. Robarts was sitting over the drawing-room fire with Lady
Meredith, when her husband's letter was brought to her. The Framley
Court letter-bag had been discussed at breakfast; but that was now
nearly an hour since, and Lady Lufton, as was her wont, was away
in her own room writing her own letters, and looking after her own
matters: for Lady Lufton was a person who dealt in figures herself,
and understood business almost as well as Harold Smith. And on that
morning she also had received a letter which had displeased her not a
little. Whence arose this displeasure neither Mrs. Robarts nor Lady
Meredith knew; but her ladyship's brow had grown black at breakfast
time; she had bundled up an omino