“Oh, Brightcoat, look, look!” she cried, as one after the other she drew out those new delights. “Who can have done it? I don’t think it could have been the Governor. I’m sure he never bothered much about one’s clothes.” And then the frog’s voice fell to a reverent whisper, so it almost seemed. “I once saw the Governor’s wife pack a Christmas box for a little boy a long way off at school, and it was quite miraculous.” “Was he her son?” “Oh, no! At least, not exactly her son. But she was very fond of him. She forgot nothing, and sent it in such little room that no one thought she was sending anything much at all.” “You have seen her, then?” “Yes, I’ve seen her; and never anything more absolutely beautiful. It was she who put her tender, gentle hand upon me when first I came all dead and dull and stunned from Lucifram, and by her radiating brightness changed my poor coat to brilliancy. But have you turned out all the contents of your bag?” “Yes. No. Here are two letters. One for me and one to Sir—John—Crokerly. Who’s he, I wonder?” “The man who lives here,” said the frog, who was primitive, and believed in calling men men, and women women, with no thought of discourtesy, but from lack of education in those matters. “The gentleman,” said Rosalie. “He’s sure to be a gentleman if he has a title. But how do you know his name?” “Well, I heard someone speak of the—the lady last night as Miss Crokerly, and they said something about Sir John. And putting two and two together, I’ve come to the conclusion it is he who lives here.” “How strange!” “Stranger things have happened. Have you read your letter?” “No,” and she broke open the envelope. At first she read it seriously, then burst out laughing. “What is it?” asked Brightcoat eagerly, who, having long ago got over the seriousness of vanity, could enjoy a joke. “Oh, this letter! It’s been written in a kind of rhyme, and I’m sure I don’t know what it means. It seems utter nonsense.” “If it’s not very private, and you read it aloud, I might be able to help you,” the frog replied courteously. “Well, listen. There is no address. It begins: