“How is poor dear papa? You may think I am a little hypocrite, having given him such a shock, but I did really hope he would see some fun in it--he always had such a sense of humour. I have thought of this, really, truly, in all I have done. About the _trousseau_ (which everybody thinks the greatest joke that ever was), and about going off in the yacht, and all that, I kept thinking that papa, though he would be very angry, would see the fun. I planned it all for that--indeed, indeed, Kate, I did, whatever you may think. To be sure, Charlie went for half in the planning, and I can’t say I think he has very much sense of humour, but, still, that was in my mind all the time. Was he very, very angry when he found out? Did you wake him in the night to tell him and risk an illness? If you did, I think you were very, very much to blame. There is never any hurry in telling bad news. But you are so tremendously straightforward and all that. I hope he only heard in the morning, and had his good night’s rest and was not disturbed. It was delicious this time in the yacht, as quiet almost as a mill-pond--just a nice soft little air that carried us across the bay and on to Southsea; such a delightful sail! I ought to have thought of you promenading about in the cold waiting for me without any companion, but I really couldn’t, dear. Naturally we were too much taken up with ourselves, and the joy of having got off so nicely. But I do beg your pardon most sincerely, dear Katie, for having left you out in the cold, really out in the cold--without any figure of speech--like that.