“A thing that will trouble you down here, Dad, is the cruelty of the country. They catch these poor little wretches in traps, leaving them sometimes for days suffering what must be to them nothing short of agony—to say nothing of the terror and the hunger. I tried putting my finger in one of the beastly things and keeping it there for just two minutes by my watch. It seemed like twenty. The pain grows more intense with every second, and I’m not a soft, as you know. I’ve lain half an hour with a broken leg, and that wasn’t as bad. One hears the little creatures screaming, but cannot find them. Of course when one draws near they keep silent. It makes one quite dislike country people. They are so callous. When you speak to them about it they only grin. Janie goes nearly mad about it. Mr. St. Leonard tried to get the clergyman to say something on the subject, but he answered that he thought it better ‘for the Church to confine herself to the accomplishment of her own great mission.’ Ass! “Bring Little Mother down; we want to show her off on Friday. And make her put on something pretty. Ask her if she’s got that lilac thing with lace she wore at Cambridge for the May Week the year before last. Tell her not to be silly; it wasn’t a bit too young. Nash said she looked like something out of an old picture, and he’s going to be an artist. Don’t let her dress herself. She doesn’t understand it. And will you get me a gun—” The remainder of the letter was taken up with instructions concerning the gun. It seemed a complicated sort of gun. I wished I hadn’t read about the gun to Ethelbertha. It made her nervous for the rest of the day. * * * * * Veronica’s letter followed on Thursday morning. I read it going down in the train. In transcribing I have thought it better, as regards the spelling, to adopt the more conventional forms. * * * * *