that has been in the inkpot crawling in a hurry over the paper
without stopping to rub its feet properly on the mat. So Oswald took the
letter. He is above minding a little marmalade or bacon. He began to
read. It ran thus:

"It's not Antiquities, you little silly," he said; "it's _Antiquaries_."

"The other's a very good word," said Albert's uncle, "and I never call
names at breakfast myself--it upsets the digestion, my egregious
Oswald."

"That's a name though," said Alice, "and you got it out of 'Stalky,'
too. Go on, Oswald."

So Oswald went on where he had been interrupted:

"MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES AND FIELD CLUB,

"_Aug. 14, 1900._

"DEAR SIR,--At a meeting of the Committee of this Society it
was agreed that a field day should be held on Aug. 20, when
the Society proposes to visit the interesting church of
Ivybridge and also the Roman remains in the vicinity. Our
president, Mr. Longchamps, F.R.S., has obtained permission
to open a barrow in the Three Trees pasture. We venture to
ask whether you would allow the members of the Society to
walk through your grounds and to inspect--from without, of
course--your beautiful house, which is, as you are doubtless
aware, of great historic interest, having been for some
years the residence of the celebrated Sir Thomas Wyatt.--I
am, dear Sir, yours faithfully,

"EDWARD K. TURNBULL (_Hon. Sec._)."

"Just so," said Albert's uncle; "well, shall we permit the eye of the
Maidstone Antiquities to profane these sacred solitudes, and the foot of
the Field Club to kick up a dust on our gravel?"

"Our gravel is all grass," H. O. said. And the girls said, "Oh, do let
them come!" It was Alice who said:

"Why not ask them to tea? They'll be very tired coming all the way from
Maidstone."

"Would you really like it?" Albert's uncle asked. "I'm afraid they'll be
but dull dogs, the Antiquities, stuffy old gentlemen with amphorae in
their button-holes instead of orchids, and pedigrees poking out of all
their pockets."

We laughed--because we knew what an amphorae is. If you don't you might
look it up in the dicker. It's not a flower, though it sounds like one
out of the gardening book, the kind you never hear of any one growing.

Dora said she thought it would be splendid.

"And we could have out the best china," she said, "and decorate t