At my tutor's suggestion, father took me to a Natural Sciences lecture this evening. Knowing that it would be a dreadful bore, I resisted forcefully and threw an absolute fit. I only consented when father agreed to allow my old schoolmate, Crispin Devonshire, accompany us. We get along so marvelously, Crispin and I; I do believe we are linked at the soul.
As anticipated, the lecture was an absolute bother: a horrid old Finnish man prattling on about the physiognomy of criminals. Thank the heavens for dear Crispin! Just as the Finn launched into a tirade about the length of Jack the Ripper's chin, Crispin, possessive of his usual foresight, revealed to me that he had smuggled his bag of marbles into the lecture hall! Giggling as discreetly as we could, we took each other by the hand and stole out of the hall, into the adjoining alley.
Yet, as ever, misfortune is my mistress. Not a minute had passed after rolling out the marbles and starting a hearty game of Spans and Snops, and father came rushing out into the alley, all red in the face! He took my by the ear and pulled me forcefully to our carriage, leaving poor Crispin alone! And the affair grew sourer still: As father tugged me through the crowd by my lobe, what should I see through my veil of tears but one of Henry Wigglesworth's minions -- a photographer for the Whitehill Courier!
Now here I sit with a cold compress on my ear, knowing that in a few days' time, the whole affair will be a matter of public record in the social pages. And I am still without my monthly stipend. I tire so of all this wretched business... perhaps I shall whisk away to Spain to live among the Moors.
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