WOULD YOU BE SO
KIND AS TO MAKE ME A NEW ONE? I HAVE NO LADY FRIENDS HERE TO APPLY TO
FOR HELP, AND I AM SURE YOU ARE CLEVER WITH YOUR NEEDLE. IF YOU CONSENT,
I WILL SEND YOU THE OLD FLAG AS A PATTERN, AND STUFF FOR THE NEW ONE. MY
KIND REGARDS TO ALL AT THE HOTEL.
FAITHFULLY YOURS,
RICHARD TOWNSHEND-MAHONY.
P.S. I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN OUR PLEASANT WALK TO THE CAVE.
He went out to the post with it himself. In one hand he carried the
letter, in the other the candle-end stuck in a bottle that was known as
a "Ballarat-lantern" for it was a pitchdark night.
Trade was slack; in consequence he found the four days that had to pass
before he could hope for an answer exceptionally long. After their
lapse, he twice spent an hour at the Post Office, in a fruitless attempt
to get near the little window. On returning from the second of these
absences, he found the letter waiting for him; it had been delivered by
hand.
So far good: Polly had risen to his fly! He broke the seal.
DEAR SIR,
I shall be happy to help you with your new flag if I am able. Will you
kindly send the old one and the stuff down by my brother, who is coming
to see me on Saturday. He is working at Rotten Gully, and his name is
Ned. I do not know if I sew well enough to please you, but I will do my
best.
I REMAIN,
YOURS TRULY,
MARY TURNHAM.
Mahony read, smiled and laid the letter down--only to pick it up again.
It pleased him, did this prim little note: there was just the right
shade of formal reserve about it.
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