The Mislaid Magician; or, Ten Years After

News of Daniel's disappearance does not alarm me as it might have done a week ago. Given recent events, very little alarms me as it might have done a week ago. I feel as if my supply of alarm has been exhausted, at least temporarily.

She who laughs last may not invariably laugh best, but she does laugh.

In the meantime, thank you for existing. At least I have one relation (other than Aunt Elizabeth) with some sense. I find it a great comfort.

I have nothing but nonsense for you. Be warned. I intend to burden you with it in painful detail, for otherwise it will buzz around inside my head for days. I know you are much too sensible to permit anything so foolish to buzz around inside your head for even five minutes, so I look forward to hearing your opinion of the matter.

You yourself, I seem to remember, have a way of soaking up scandal broth even as you seem to have a mind for higher and nobler things. Stir yourself.