Though the handwriting wasn’t much to boast of, and the spelling even worse, it was a straightforward, man-like letter; he was evidently very pleased to have the cakes, and quite touched that the young lady should have been so kind as to think of him. He said his people were too far off to send him anything like that: his father and mother had gone out to Canada when he was ten years old. No one had sent him a _parcel_ so far, therefore it was quite a surprise packet when the first one came. It was kind of her to ask if he would like some more; all he could say was—“the more the merrier,” if the young lady felt like it. And he signed himself, her faithful friend, Dick. After that Dick’s name became so all-insistent in our midst that the whole household appeared to exist solely for the purpose of revolving round him. So constantly was it wafted on the four winds of heaven, that I remarked to the Head of Affairs: it seemed for all the world as though we had adopted a pet canary, and were everlastingly wondering if his seed glass had been replenished. * * * * * There was only one slight shadow falling athwart the sunshine. Pamela (who was a great authority on “How to tell your character by your handwriting,” having had her own delineated by her favourite penny weekly) had declared that Dick was anæmic and delicate; she knew, because his handwriting sloped downwards—a sure sign; it was also cramped and irregular, an unfailing indication of a mean and grasping nature; while the heavy downstrokes and the absence of punctuation proved as plain as plain could be that he was unreliable. Poor Pamela had had her own disappointments in life, and had been warped a little thereby. Of course Abigail said she did not believe a word of such rubbish, and she rather liked the funny-shaped letters, and thought the black strokes looked particularly strong and healthy. Nevertheless, it was surprising how that trifle of seed, carelessly dropped, took root in our minds, and how from that date onwards we all regarded Dick as anæmic and in need of strenuous nourishment; while if more than a month elapsed between his communications, we couldn’t help just wondering whether, after all, he might not be a _little_ mean and grasping, and six weeks demonstrated with absolute certainty that he was unreliable! * * * * * A month after we received his first letter, there came another, and of course we all fluttered with excitement.