Near the end of the letter, in the only paragraph he writes with ease and pleasure, for it conveys well-wishes to his sister and his excitement about coming home, he includes the following passage: “A week or two ago the teachers here received a shipment of tea and sweets from Beasley and Son. Naturally this caused some interest amongst us pupils — especially the sweets! Would it be cheeky for me to ask whether a packet of B&S’s might not also find its way into my Christmas stocking?”

He finishes with a postscript asking whether it would be agreeable if he invited a schoolmate to join the family for all or part of the holiday. “I do not know what his commitments are,” he adds, punctiliously, “but am anxious for you to meet him. He is my best friend.”

He sends the letter by the afternoon mail and receives an answer with the customary promptness the day after next. Yes, the family are looking forward to his coming, his mother writes, and are planning a trip to their house in Ireland, weather permitting. Yes, he may bring home whomsoever he wishes, however obscure his family name; and all the more so if the boy in question is dear to his heart.

As to the sweets, Charlie has to read the letter twice until he finds an answer to his request. It is hidden away in a paragraph describing Christmas preparations and in particularly the tree that the servants put up “only yesterday” and whose branches are “so rich and wide that there will hardly be any space for the family to fit beside it”; “nor is there hardly any chance that Father Christmas, who in some picture books appears a rather portly fellow, will be able to squeeze his girth into the room to deliver any presents.” “It may be just as well,” his mother goes on, “that, by the evidence of your letter, you are growing up very fast and have no more need for superstitions. It is all the more important that your maturing desires, regarding Christmas presents and otherwise, be married to your discretion, both in public utterance and private.” There the paragraph ends. The next spends an inordinate number of words reminding Charlie to wear warm socks and underwear, and to dry off properly after taking a bath.

Charlie wishes that his mother could put matters more simply, but has learned that it is the nature of letter-writing that one must state things in a roundabout and somewhat poetic way; otherwise letters would become frightfully short. All the same he finds himself returning time and again to that curiously worded admonishment concerning his “desires.” It appears his mother is telling him to shut up. This is unusual in itself; as an answer to his lighthearted request it is also rather odd. More than odd.

A riddle.

It is fair to say that Charlie is intrigued.

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