rman!" and try to look like
Bernard Shaw. Roger only succeeds in looking like Little Lord
Fauntleroy. But all this is away from the point, which is, why
grizzle and grouse at the Bally Awful. If your papa will send you
to T.C.D., you must just grin and bear it, my lad. I've never met
anybody from Trinity.... I suppose people do come out of it after
they get into it ... but if you're careful and remember the example
of your little friends, Gilbert and Ninian and Roger, you'll come
to no harm. And when you do come to London, we'll try to improve
what's left of your poor mind. It would be splendid to go to
Ballymartin for the summer. Tell your papa that Ninian and Roger
and I solemnly cursed him three times for preventing you from
coming to Cambridge, and then gave him three cheers for asking us
to Ireland. The top of the morning to you, my broth of a boy, and
the heavens be your bed, bedad and bejabers, as you say in your
country, according to Punch. Yours ever, Gilbert._

_P.S. What about that two bob you owe me?_

Mary's letter was shorter than Gilbert's.

_I think it's awfully horrid of your father not to let you go to
Cambridge with Ninian and the others. I was so looking forward to
going up in May Week and so was Mother. Of course, we shall go
anyhow, but it would have been much nicer if you had been there.
You would love Boveyhayne if you were here now. The hedges are full
of wild roses and hazelnuts and there is a lovely lot of valaria on
our wall. Old Widger says there will be a lovely lot of
blackberries in September if everything goes well. I went out in a
boat yesterday with Tom Yeo and I caught six dozen mackerel. You
would have blubbed if you'd seen them flopping about in the bottom
of the boat and looking so nice, and they were nice to eat. I love
mackerel, don't you? Mother sends her love. Do write soon. I love
getting letters and you write such nice ones. Your affectionate
friend, Mary Graham. P.S. Love._

Mary always signed herself his affectionate friend. He had tried to make
her sign herself his loving sweetheart, but she said she did not like to
do that.

3

He hurriedly put the letters away, and rose to greet John Marsh who came
across the lawn to him, talking to Mr. Quinn.

"This is John Marsh, Henry," Mr. Quinn said when he came up to him, an