"Saved a clean six-and-six by that," he remarked, when the last was licked up; "that'll go into the fireworks."
Jill, whose admiration for her brother's genius knew no bounds, felt almost happy.
It was Monday evening when the Yeld post-master was exercised in his mind by hearing a loud rap down-stairs, which on inquiry he found to have proceeded from the discharge of 150 mysterious-looking halfpenny missives, written in a very round hand, into his box. Being an active and intelligent person, he felt it his duty to examine one, addressed, as it happened, to the Duke of Somewhere. After some consideration, and a study of his rules and regulations, he came to the conclusion that the enclosure was of the nature of a letter, and thereupon proceeded to mark each with a claim for a penny excess postage. Which done, he retired to his parlour, relieved in his mind.
Tom and Jill had more to do than to speculate on the adventures of their carefully-written cards.
Once more Jill turned a little pale. She had been dreading this fateful question all along.
"What do you think?" said she diplomatically.
Tom, of course, had thought the problem out.
"We must keep it dark from the slaveys," said he, "at least till everybody comes, then they're bound to give us a leg up. I fancy we can scrape a thing or two up from what's in the house. And I've called in at one or two of the shops at Yeld and told them to send up some things addressed to `Miss J. Oliphant--private.' There was rather a nice lot of herrings just in, so I got three dozen of them cheap. Then I told them at the confectioner's to send up all the strawberry ices they could in the time, and 150 buns. You see everybody is sure not to come, so there'll be plenty to go round."
"Didn't Mr Rusk ask what they were for?" inquired Jill.
"I said Mr Oliphant presented his kind regards, and would be glad to have the things sharp."
Next morning, greatly to the delight of the hospitable pair, the herrings came up in a basket, addressed privately to Miss Jill. Later in the day tradesmen's carts rattled up the back drive with similar missives, not a little to the bewilderment of the servants of the house, who shook their heads and wished Mrs Parker would make a speedy recovery.