When he is away from home he will expect a letter from each of them every day. He will not take excuses such as Jack is wont to make, that he has not time, or the carrier went off before he knew, or, forsooth, he had nothing to write about. As for want of time, how could it fail, since everyone who has anything to say in the division of their day will let the letter to father take first place. And as for keeping the carrier waiting, why not have the letters ready and sealed, even before his coming? And as for having nothing to say—did anyone ever hear of such an excuse from girls, who (he pulls Cecy’s ears at this point) have always a world to say about nothing at all. If there is nothing at all to write about, why! let them write about “nothing at all.” But they know he likes to hear about their studies and their games. But whatever they write, whether it be fun or earnest, let them write it as carefully and with as much finish as possible. It will be no harm to write out first the whole in English, for then they will have much less trouble in turning it into Latin; not having to look for the matter, their mind will be more free to attend to the language. That, however, he will leave to their own choice; but on another thing he will be strict. Whatever they have composed, they must carefully examine before writing out clear; and in this examination they must first scrutinise the whole sentence, and then every part of it. Thus, if any solecisms have escaped them, they will easily detect them. By this diligence they will soon be able to turn out elegant productions. “And have them shown to the Archbishop, or Dean Colet, or even the King, as Erasmus did with a letter of Margaret’s,” says Cecily. A little shade comes over the kind face above her curls. If there is one thing he dreads for his girls, this wise father, it is vain-glory. “Tilly-vally, Master More,” says Dame Alice, bustling in (just at the right moment, to show what a sensible choice he has made of a step-mother for his brilliant girls). “What comes over you to keep the girls all idling here, while Gillian needs them in the dairy, being all of a sweat, poor wench, a-trying to make the butter come? Off with you all, girls, now, and take your turns at the churn until the cream breaks, were it to keep you to morning.” She leads the relief-party off to the dairy, and you find yourself alone with your host and Master Gunnel. “Shall we to the garden until the young ones come back to us?” Master More inquires, and you need no second invitation.