Isn't this a good letter? You said I
was to always write just as I thought. So I'm doing it. I think
that's all."
I read selections from this letter aloud to Ethelbertha. She said
she was glad she had decided to come down with me.
CHAPTER IX
Had all things gone as ordered, our arrival at the St. Leonards' on
Friday afternoon would have been imposing. It was our entrance, so
to speak, upon the local stage; and Robina had decided it was a case
where small economies ought not to be considered. The livery stable
proprietor had suggested a brougham, but that would have necessitated
one of us riding outside. I explained to Robina that, in the
country, this was usual; and Robina had replied that much depended
upon first impressions. Dick would, in all probability, claim the
place for himself; and, the moment we were started, stick a pipe in
his mouth. She selected an open landau of quite an extraordinary
size, painted yellow. It looked to me an object more appropriate to
a Lord Mayor's show than to the requirements of a Christian family;
but Robina seemed touchy on the subject, and I said no more. It
certainly was roomy. Old Glossop had turned it out well, with a pair
of greys--seventeen hands, I judged them. The only thing that seemed
wrong was the coachman. I can't explain why, but he struck me as the
class of youth one associates with a milk-cart.
We set out at a gentle trot.
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