I was in the middle of dressing when Mrs Tremayne brought up a wire. Telegrams give one the creeps these days, but this was from Ross to say that he was arriving by the 7.10 to-night. Nannie and I hurriedly held a council of war on the subject of bedrooms. There is a small dressing-room vacant, but it really will not do for Ross. He gets bad nights, and he must be as comfortable as possible, so Nannie and I towed all my things into the little room and made the other ready for him and coaxed the landlady for a fire. Fires seem to be difficult to obtain in this house, ’coal being such a price.’ Some of the things in my new room are very droll. There is a case of stuffed birds, and a glass ship in a bottle, lots of ribbon bows, and a hair-tidy like a balloon, made out of an electric light bulb encased in yellow crochet, with an ingenious ’basket’ constructed out of a small jelly-pot covered in with yellow silk. The Gidger thought it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen, and asked for it, but Nannie said, ’Landladies don’t like things moved.’ There is also a unique collection of pictures and a lot of texts, but the thing which I most love is an engraving called ’The Believer’s Vision.’ It is a priceless work. On a low couch, with folded hands and a smug smile of satisfaction on her depressing countenance, lies ’the Believer’ fast asleep. She has a plate of grapes and oranges beside her on a table, and there seems to be a good deal of Greek drapery about as well. Up in one corner is ’The Vision’—two fat angels lying long-ways on a hole they’ve scooped out of the ceiling. Oh, they are fat: two to a ton, as Michael would say, and they are blowing trumpets and have heaps of feathers. It is a most entrancing work of art. After lunch, which I think was weirder than the dinner (I hope I am not dainty) I took the Gidger for a walk and bought a lot of fruit and biscuits. Fernfold is very sweet. All Surrey is, I think, with its little woods and commons. After tea I went down to the station, and Ross arrived, apparently in the worst of tempers; Brown was with him. ’Why, Brown,’ I exclaimed, ’I didn’t know you were coming.’ ’Nor I, but he’s not staying,’ growled Ross. ’It’s quite convenient,’ I said, ’only there isn’t a bed. I expect we could fix up something.’ ’Oh, that don’t matter, ma’am,’ said Brown, ’don’t bother about me.’ ’Brown can sleep on the edge of a knife, Meg. And I hope it’ll cut him,’ Ross said vindictively. ’Yes, sir, thank you, sir,’ said Brown, with the greatest possible deference, ’won’t you get into the cab, sir? You oughtn’t to stand after the journey.’ ’Oh, don’t fuss. If you are going to fuss,’ said Ross, ’you can go to the——’ ’Ross!’ ’Can I never say it?’ ’No,’ I said severely, ’_never_.’ ’But if I go and stay at Hindhead, surely there I——’ ’Yes, but there you must say "punchbowl" after it.’