Dear Miss Hienrichs,
I am penning you this brief note to inform you that I am once more in the final preparations for an excursion out of town. This weekend I will be having my squire load up a horse-drawn wagon so that I might take a small party up north for some rest, relaxation and opulent spending. I expect to be gone for about ten days depending on the roads.
By now I’m sure you have grown accustomed to receiving these semi-regular missives announcing my imminent departure on some fantastic voyage into the realms of knightly adventure. And I know what you must be thinking – how on earth will Sir Sir Emerson save the day this time around? That you would think such thoughts, Miss Hienrichs, is perfectly understandable for by now my selfless acts of valour are legendary. Sadly, however, this will not be one of those adventures. This trip into the pastoral bliss of our northern regions couldn’t be more mundane – and that is just how I want it.
To allay any fears you might have, my former majordomo and current Gangplank mascot, Arnold Beryl Strifeclaw, will not be looking after my properties in my absence. He will be busy managing some sort of ‘democratic experiment’ at the Gangplank. In his place I have hired someone to come in from time to time to check on my little spider monkey Vagus. Do not be alarmed by the occasional stranger in my house.
In closing, I should warn you that upon my return from up north, I expect to be once more in a position to finance the remodeling of my three Wheatstone properties, including the lovely Airship factory under which we both live. I tell you this as there will likely be a great number of labourers involved – which brings to mind a tiny favour. Do you think they might be able to use your lavatory facilities? I’d offer mine but Vagus has left it in quite a state.
Sincerely your neighbour,
Sir Sir Emerson Lighthouse, MD, PHD, DDS, NBE (twice knighted, thrice retired)
Intrepid Explorer
Bookworm read Emerson’s letter, chuckling over most of it. ‘Typical Mr. Lighthouse,’ she thought, though she did wonder how he expected to replenish his reportedly-depleated resources in so short a time. And how he could think nothing would happen on his trip–that was just an open invitation to the fates.
Then she got to his request at the end of the note, and frowned. Later, she mentioned it to Mrs. Pritchard, who looked at Bookworm with an expression of horror.
“What?” she exclaimed. “And have those rude men tramping mud, sawdust, and who knows what all over my clean floors? And dirtying up *our* lavatory? And stealing towels, like as not?”
“Well, we have some time,” Bookworm replied, though she couldn’t help but feel at least somewhat like Mrs. Pritchard. “Maybe we can think of something…”
I see an outhouse in your future?
http://cityofnewbabbage.com/reader/node/7064#comment-20025
*slaps forehead* I missed that.
Beryl looked at the clue on the crossword puzzle lost and turned to Bert, “What’s a nine letter word where the hint might be herding cats…”
“Shouldn’t ya know?” He chuckled, but then sobered as he reminded the cat that they needed those games to keep Emerson distracted.