I've tried to console
him for having missed what he went to see. I said, "Perhaps the eclipse
or whatever it was will happen again soon--or one like it." He groaned
out, "My dear lady, that particular conjunction of the heavenly bodies
will not occur again for 2,645 years, 9 months, 3 weeks and 2 days." So
there it is, my dearest!

Would it cheer you up to hear a small romance of war and knitting? Here
it is, then. Some time ago Monica Jermyn brought round some terrific
mitts she'd knitted to go in one of my parcels for the troops. She's
easily the worst knitter who ever held needles! "My _dear_ child," I
said, "what simply ghastly mitts! They're full of mistakes." "What's it
matter?" Monica answered. "Mistakes will keep them quite as warm as the
right stitches. Besides, they're all right. I knit ever so much better
now than when I used to make socks for the Deep Sea Fisherman last
year." "That's not saying much," I said. "I remember those socks for the
Deep Sea Fishermen, and I doubt whether even the _deepest_ sea fishermen
would know how to put them on! What's this?" "It's a message to go with
the mitts," replied Monica. This was the message:--"The girl who made
these mitts hopes they will be a comfort to some dear brave hands
fighting for her and her sisters in England." "Oh, my _dear_!" I
remonstrated. "It's very _young_ and _romantic_ of you, but don't you
think it's _just_ a little----" "No, I don't!" she cried. "And if it is,
I don't care. Please, please let it go!" So it went.

Soon after that the Jermyns went down to their place in Sussex, and
later I heard they'd some convalescent war heroes as guests. Monica
wrote me: "All six of them are dear brave darlings, of course, but _one_
of them is _darlinger_ than the others. Tell it not in Gath, dear
Blanche, but I think I've met my fate!" Later she wrote: "He's getting
on splendidly. He turns out to be a cousin of the Flummerys. He
performed _prodigies_ of valour, but won't say a _word_ about it. When
he leaves us my heart will quite, _quite_ break--and I sometimes hope
_his_ will too!"

Yesterday came the following:--"Claude and I belong to each other. And
what, oh _what_ do you think helped to lead up to the dear, delicious
finale? But wait. My hero is almost quite well now, and this morning,
when we took what would have been our _last_ little walk in the grounds,
it happened! He walks _beautifully_ now, though he still needs an arm at
about the level of _mi