I’m sorry to say it: but my dear Susan--I mean ma chère Suzanne--has a hard heart. Her letter to tell me that she’s landed safe in Normandy without being shipwrecked or run over by a motor-car, only reached me this (Wednesday) morning: and, if I hadn’t ridden into Derlingham and fished it up out of the post-office, I shouldn’t have got it till to-morrow. If Suzanne were kind, she would have sent one line on Sunday. It is an enormous relief to know that you are not hard-worked or unhappy. When I saw Miss Langley with you (once outside Traxelby Church, and twice in the street), I thought she seemed rather nice--though, to tell the truth, I didn’t waste time looking at Miss Langley, when I could spend it looking at Suzanne. Now about this horrible photograph. I’ve always hated photography and always shall. But your commands must be obeyed. So I went into the "studio" of the Derlingham "artist." The "artist" was a pasty-faced youth in a velvet coat with Byronic curls that must take hours every night. He wanted to do his worst, and to turn out something elaborate that wouldn’t be ready for a week: but I gave him a maximum of three hours, and he has handed me the enclosed. I expect a long answer to this, telling me all your doings, by return of post. And I shall be the most injured man in all England if Suzanne’s own photograph is not enclosed with her long letter. More than ever, I am your RUDDINGTON. "I like this letter, Susan," I said, putting it down again on the table. "Yes, Miss," said Susan, without enthusiasm. And, after a pause, she added, "But don’t you think, Miss, it begins rather funny?" "No," I answered. "I think the beginning is rather neat. You’ve forgotten. In our last letter we told him he might call you Dear Susan, but he mustn’t call you My. So, instead of calling you ’My,’ he says he’s going to call you ’Ma.’" "Is that it?" asked Susan, pouting. "Well, I don’t think I like it. That’s what my uncle Bob used to call my aunt Martha." "Your uncle Bob?" I echoed, stupefied. "Yes, Miss. He called my aunt ’Ma,’ and she called him ’Pa.’ I don’t like it, Miss. It sounds common."