’Guestwick cottage, December, 186-
’my dear John,

’I am much obliged to you for going to Jones’s.  I send stamps for two shillings and fourpence, which is what I owe to you.  It used only to be two shillings and twopence, but they say everything has got to be dearer now, and I suppose pills as well as other things.  Only think of Pritchard coming to me, and saying she wanted her wages raised, after living with me for twenty years!  I was very angry, and scolded her roundly; but as she acknowledged, she had been wrong, and cried and begged my pardon, I did give her two guineas a year more.

’I saw dear Lily just for a moment on Sunday, and upon my word I think she grows prettier every year.  She had a young friend with her—­a Miss Crawley—­who, I believe, is the cousin I have heard you speak of.  What is this sad story about her father, the clergyman!  Mind you tell me about it.

’It is quite true what I told you about the De Courcys.  Old Lady De Courcy is in London, and Mr Crosbie is going to law with her about his wife’s money.  He has been at it in one way or the other ever since poor Lady Alexandrina died.  I wish she had lived, with all my heart.  For though I feel sure that our Lily will never willingly see him again, yet the tidings of her death disturbed her, and set her thinking of things that were fading from her mind.  I rated her soundly, not mentioning your name, however; but she only kissed me, and told me in her quiet drolling way that I didn’t mean a word of what I said.

’You can come here whenever you please after the tenth of January.  But if you come early January you must go to your mother first, and come to me for the last week of your holiday.  Go to Blackie’s in Regent Street, and bring me down all the colours in wool I ordered.  I said you would call.  And tell them at Dolland’s the last spectacles don’t suit at all, and I won’t keep them, they had better send me down, by you, one or two more pairs to try.  And you had better see Smithers and Smith, in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, No 57—­ but you have been there before—­and beg them to let me know how my poor dear brother’s matters are to be settled at last.  As far as I can see I shall be dead before I shall know what income I have to spend.  As to my cousins at the manor, I never see them; and as to talking to them about business, I should not dream of it.  She hasn’t come to me since she first called, and she may be quite sure I shan’t go to her till she does.  Indeed I think we shall like each other apart quite as much as we should together.  So let me know when you’re coming, and pray don’t forget to call at Blackie’s; nor yet at Dolland’s, which is much more important than the wool, because my eyes are getting so weak.  But what I want you specially to remember is about Smithers and Smith.  How is a woman to live if she doesn’t know how much she has got to spend?  ’Believe me to be, my dear John, ’Your most sincere friend, ‘Julia de guest.’