Merry Hall

It was a lovely morning in early September when Miss Emily first came into my life. I was lying back on the one and only sofa, watching 'One' and 'Four', who were prowling in and out of the packing cases, when Gaskin entered with a note. 'This was pushed through the letter-box,' he said. 'And if those cats don't keep away from those cases I shall have to Hoover the whole place for the third time.' With which, abruptly, he departed. Gaskin was evidently beginning to feel the strain. I opened the note. This was what I read:

Dear Mr. Nichols,

I hope you will forgive a total stranger for writing to wish you a very warm welcome to 'Merry Hall'. Such a pretty name, I have always thought, and I have no doubt that you will make sure that it lives up to that name.

To me, the old house used to feel like a second home, for I often stayed there in the days of dear Mr. Stebbing — such a gentleman, of the real old school, and such perfect taste. And always so patient with poor Mrs. Stebbing, who was an invalid, as I expect you know (Heart). I often think that her illness really shortened his life, for she was able to do very little in the garden, and was exhausted after lifting heavy weights.

What a joy it will be for you to carry on Mr. Stebbing's tradition! And how fortunate you are to step into a house and garden where no alterations are necessary, particularly in these days when everything is so difficult! If you will allow me, I should so like to call, as you are settled, and if there are any of Mr. Stebbing's ideas which you would like to hear about, I shall be so happy to tell you of them.

And now I come to the real point of my letter. I am a vegetarian, with only a quite small garden, which is entirely given over to flowers. (One must have one's flowers — but I am sure I need not remind you of that!) This means that I am at the mercy of my local green-grocer, who is most exhorbitant, and not always fresh. Might I therefore ask if we could come to a little arrangement? I happened to be passing Merry Hall the other day and ventured to peep through the hedge, and I noticed that the kitchen garden was brimming with the most wonderful vegetables. (Dear Oldfield — I am so glad you are keeping him on). Might I be allowed to purchase some from you? It would be most convenient to me, and I dare hope that it might also be helpful to you. One cannot afford to neglect any source of income nowadays, can one?

I trust you will forgive me for writing so informally, but I am sure you will understand. Yours sincerely,
Emily Kaye.

P.S. I am afraid that I should not be able to fetch the vegetables myself, so I hope it would not be too inconvenient to you to deliver them — preferable on Saturdays, between three and four? I took the liberty, when I was passing, of walking up the dear old drive, and I saw that you are running your car. Such a luxury, nowadays! My own, alas, is soon to be laid up, or I would not have troubled you with this request.