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By Root 1508 0

it in direct address. Endless, I say, and so they seemed, though in fact less than twelve of them elapsed before Mama’s telegram brought renewed hope to hearts sunk deep in the depths of woe. Uncle Walter bore the news with manly fortitude, though he aged a year for every hour that passed; Aunt Evelyn wept unceasingly; Jerry and Bob had to be restored by copious applications of beer, Rose by copious applications of cold water and smelling salts. I cannot speak of Nefrefs pallid, silent, suffering grief, and words fail me when I attempt to describe my own. Only Gargery remained steadfast. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he declared stoutly. ‘It ain’t true.’ (I quote Gargery literally, dear parents; excessive emotion always has an adverse effect upon his grammar.) ‘They couldn’t kill the professor, not even if they run over him with a locomotive, which are scarce in Egypt anyhow, I am told. And if they did, madam wouldn’t be under no doctor’s care, she’d be rampaging up and down the country breaking heads and shooting people. It ain’t true. You can’t believe nothing you read in those newspapers.’

My reading of this remarkable literary effort was interrupted by a series of strangled sounds from Cyrus. Taking out his handkerchief, he applied it to his streaming eyes and gasped, “I beg your pardon, my dear; I couldn’t help it. He is—he really is—does he talk that way too?”

“He used to,” I said, clenching my teeth. “He has not lost his loquacity, only turned it into written form. Shall I go on?”

“Please.”

“And you see, dear Mama and Papa, that of us all Gargery was the only one to discern the truth. I had certain reservations, of course, regarding the accuracy of journalistic reporting, but filial affection quite overcame my reason at that point.

“We had our first intimation of incipient tragedy the day before the newspaper accounts appeared, when certain more responsible journalists endeavored to inquire of us concerning the accuracy of their reports. After the first inquiry, from the Times, which Uncle Walter flatly denied, we refused to communicate by telephone. The result was an onslaught of unauthorized visitors waving press credentials and demanding entry. Needless to say, they were repelled by our gallant forces. But concern continued to grow, and when the newspapers arrived next morning we were forced to concede their truth, since they quoted reputable sources in Cairo and Luxor. Not until evening did a messenger succeed in delivering your telegram. Ah, then what a scene ensued! Aunt Evelyn cried harder than ever. Rose went into hysterics. Uncle Walter and Gargery shook hands and kept on shaking them for ten minutes. Nefret and I…”

I held the letter closer to my eyes. “He has scratched something out here,” I said, frowning. “I think he wrote ‘flew into one another’s arms,’ and then replaced it with ‘expressed our emotions in a suitable fashion.’ ”

“So that’s the way the land lies, is it?” Cyrus was no longer amused. “I hope you won’t take offense, Amelia, if I say that the only thing that could deter a man from the honor of asking you to be his wife would be the prospect of having to be a father to that boy.”

“Emerson is the only one up to that challenge,” I replied. “And thank heaven there is no need to consider another candidate. Let me see…Oh, damnation!”

“Amelia!” Cyrus exclaimed.

“I beg your pardon,” I said, almost as shocked as he at my inexcusable lapse. “But really, Ramses is enough to drive a saint to profanity. He spends four pages describing in disgustingly fulsome detail emotional reactions that are of only academic interest at this stage, and then devotes one paragraph to a really horrifying piece of news. Listen to this:

“The only unfortunate consequence of the happiness following the receipt of your telegram was that Bob and Jerry (our gallant gatekeepers) slept rather too soundly that night, owing, as they explained, not to an excess of beer but to the fatigue of joyful relief. Whatever the cause (and I see no reason to doubt the word of such loyal friends who are, moreover, in a better position