There was a Stumfoldian edict, ultra-Median-and-Persian in its strictness, ordaining¹ that no Stumfoldian in Littlebath should be allowed to receive a letter on Sundays. And there also existed a coordinate² rule on the part of the Postmaster-General,—or, rather, a privilege granted by that functionary,—in accordance with which Stumfoldians, and other such sects³ of Sabbatarians, were empowered to prohibit the letter-carriers from contaminating their special knockers on Sunday mornings. Miss Mackenzie had given way to this easily, seeing nothing amiss in the edict, and not caring much for her Sunday letters. In consequence, she received on the Monday mornings those letters which were due to her on Sundays, and on this special Monday morning she received a letter, as to which the delay was of much consequence. It was to tell her that her brother Tom was dying, and to pray that she would be up in London as early on the Monday as was practicable. Mr Samuel Rubb, junior, who had written the letter in Gower Street, had known nothing of the Sabbatical edicts of the Stumfoldians.