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'Course it do seem a bit funny like with this 'ere frock, but I got a green velveteen wot belonged to Mrs. Oldbury's niece. It won't 'alf go with that." "It won't indeed," I agreed heartily. Then, looking up from my eggs and bacon, I added: "By the way, Gertie, I've never thanked you for your letter. I had no idea you could, write so well."
I was not sure which turning I ought to take for Edith Terrace, but an obliging policeman who was on duty outside the Tate Gallery put me on the right track. There was something delicately pleasing to my sense of humour in appealing to a constable, and altogether it was in a most contented frame of mind that I inserted my latch-key into Mrs. Oldbury's door and let myself into the house.
"I've been eating and drinking all day; it seems a pity to give it up now." "I'll mike yer one," she remarked, nodding her head. "Mrs. Oldbury's gorn out shoppin'." She disappeared down the kitchen stairs, and opening the door of my room I discovered the letter she had referred to stuck up on the mantelpiece. I took it down with some curiosity.
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