is going for him for all she's worth. Mubs doesn't notice
anything about women except their being suffs or not; and I'm supposed
to be too young to twig what's going on. I need hardly mention,
however, that very little gets past yours truly. I shouldn't wonder if
Ena'd _bring it off_. Rags asks me sometimes in a sheep-faced sort of
way what I think of things here, and I would have a joyous laugh with
him if it weren't for the brother.
Goodness gracious, but they're rich, these Rollses! I could make a pun
about their name and their money, but I won't, because it would be
cheap, and nothing is cheap at Sea Gull Manor. You can get a faint
idea what the house and the view are like from the hand-painted sketch
at the top of this paper on the left of the fat gold crest. This
stationery is in all the guests' private sitting-rooms in case any one
wants to make distant friends envious of their surroundings. Mr.
Rolls, Sr., told me he kept a tame artist painting these things at a
salary of ten thousand dollars a year, dinner and luncheon _menus_
thrown in. Ena's idea. She wanted something original, and what she
wants goes! So says Mr. R.
He's a poor little, yellow shrimp of a man, with dead-black hair,
where it isn't gray or coming off, and the same kind of beard goats
have.
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