Excuse this scrawl, but the pen's groggy.
A moment of silence followed the reading of the letter.
“Joe's a lucky boy,” said Whitney. “She's a darling.”
“The letter doesn't tell us much,” said Forbes, as he handed it round
for examination; “but more than you might think. Before writing my
chapter I summarized the data. Here they are:
“1. _Joe_. He's a member of the 'varsity who writes poetry. Either it's
published in some magazine or he sends it privately to her. The blighter
has sent Kathleen a tie of some kind--probably a scarf with his college
or club colours. He's got as far as the plaintive stage: he tells her
that he is going without his tea just to write to her. (Probably half a
dozen crumpets and four cups of tea were simmering inside of him as he
wrote). So much for Joe. I'll wager he's a Rhodes Scholar!
“2. _Kathleen_. I put her at seventeen, and (as Whitney says) she's a
darling. She's at school still. She's adorably sane. She doesn't care
for Joe's yowling poetry (probably he writes Verlaine kind of stuff,
or free verse, or some blither of that sort). She has younger brothers
['the boys') and she helps her mother run the house. I think she likes
Joe better than she cares to admit--see the touch of coquettishness
where she says 'It _will_ be precious, won't it?' And how adorably she
teases him in those four crosses marked 'These are from Fred.' Gad, I'm
jealous of Joe already!
“3. _Fred_. I think he's the older brother; probably recently left the
'varsity; a friend of Joe's, perhaps.
“4. _Charlie_ is one of the younger brothers. He goes to some kind of
night school or gymnasium. Probably an ugly little beggar. Why doesn't
he get his food for himself?
“5. _The Mother_. Don't know anything about her except that she went to
Birmingham with Kathleen.
“6. _The Father_. Has lumbago.”
“One thing you don't mention,” said Graham. “It's an easy run from here
to Wolverhampton on a motor bike!”
“Rather a sell if Joe should turn out a boxing blue, and mash us all
into pulp for bagging his letter!” said Whitney. There was a general
laugh at this. Whitney was over six feet, rowed number 5 in the Balliol
boat, and was nicknamed the Iron Duke for his muscular strength.
“Go on with your chapter, Priapus,” said the Goblin.