So sit down like a dear boy and get
it done."
"I think my nib is crossed."
"Is it? You'll find another in my desk."
"But, mother, yours are so thick."
"Please, Mark, don't make any more excuses. Don't you want to do
everything you can to help me just now?"
"Yes, of course," said Mark penitently, and sitting down in the window
he stared out at the yellow November sky, and at the magpies flying
busily from one side of the valley to the other.
The Vicarage,
Nancepean,
South Cornwall.
My dear Uncle Henry,
Thank you very much for your kind invitation to come and live with
you. We should enjoy it very much. I am going to tea with a friend
of mine called Cass Dale who lives in Nancepean, and so I must stop
now. With love,
I remain,
Your loving nephew,
Mark.
And then the pen must needs go and drop a blot like a balloon right over
his name, so that the whole letter had to be copied out again before his
mother would say that she was satisfied, by which time the yellow sky
was dun and the magpies were gone to rest.
Mark left the Dales about half past six, and was accompanied by Cass to
the brow of Pendhu. At this point Cass declined to go any farther in
spite of Mark's reminder that this would be one of the last walks they
would take together, if it were not absolutely the very last.
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