The aviary is such a wonderful place, there seem to be birds of every kind, and the parrakeets do make such a noise.  There are lots of palms here and seats, but it is not just an ideal place to stay and talk in, as every creature screams so that you can hardly hear yourself speak.  However, Miss Garnons and Mr. Trench did not seem to think so, as, while Lady Carriston stopped to say, “Didysy, woodsie, poppsie, dicksie,” to some canaries, I turned a corner to see some owls, and there found them holding hands and kissing (the White Ferret and Miss Garnons I mean, of course, not the owls).

[Sidenote:  The Mysteries of Religion]

They must have come in at the other door, and the parrots’ noises had prevented them from hearing us coming.  You never saw two people so taken aback.  They simply jumped away from one another.  Mr. Trench got crimson up to his white eyelashes, and coughed in a nervous way, while poor Miss Garnons at once talked nineteen to the dozen about the “darling little owlies,” and never let go my arm until she had got me aside, when she at once began explaining that she hoped I would not misinterpret anything I had seen; that of course it might look odd to one who did not understand the higher life, but there were mysteries connected with her religion, and she hoped I would say nothing about it.  I said she need not worry herself.  She is quite twenty-eight, you know, Mamma, so I suppose she knows best; but I should hate a religion that obliged me to kiss White Ferret curates in a parrot-house, shouldn’t you?

Lady Carriston detests Mr. Trench, but as he is a cousin she has to be fairly civil to him, and they always get on to ecclesiastical subjects and argue when they speak; it is the greatest fun to hear them.  They walked on ahead and left me with Miss Garnons until we got back to the hall.

By this time the guns had all started, so we saw no more of them.  Then Adeline suggested that she and I should bicycle in the Park, which has miles of lovely road (she is not allowed out of the gates by herself), so at last I got up to my room, and there, as I was ringing the bell for Agnes, Charlie’s piece of paper fell out on the floor.  I had forgotten all about it.  Wasn’t it a mercy it did not drop while I was with Lady Carriston?  This was all it was:  “Come down to tea half-an-hour earlier; shall sham a hurt wrist to be back from shooting in time.  Charlie.”

I could not help laughing, although I was cross at his impertinence—­in taking for granted that I would be quite ready to do whatever he wished.  I threw it in the fire, and, of course, I shan’t go down a moment before five.  Adeline has just been in to see why I am so long getting ready.—­Good-bye, dear Mamma, love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

Carriston Towers,

Saturday.

[Sidenote:  An Anchor in Life]