I was very sorry to miss a day writing to you, but truthfully, I was too busy. Everything has been in uproar these last two days. Mrs. Sheepshanks discovered my friend Fredrick, the mouse, and I only barely averted her attempt on his life. She was angry with me, but even more angry with her beast of a cat. She refused to feed him, since he had obviously failed in his job to keep down the mice. I think she hoped that if George was hungry, he would try to catch my little friend. I did the only thing I could think of, which was to feed the dragon in the hopes of pacifying it. I’m beginning to believe the maid was right, and that George came straight from hell, for as soon as I placed the scraps I’d painstakingly collected for him on the floor, the demon swatted my hand and left me with bloody scratches. I’ve been terribly tempted to catch him and use a little ether to get rid of him. If I didn’t have a conscience I would have by now.
Mrs. Sheepshanks has been trying to find a new maid to replace the one who was fired for fighting back when she was abused. So far, she has been unsuccessful. It seems the old maid had many friends, and hesitated not to tell the full story of her service here.
My little friend has come for what crumbs I can spare him. Today I saved him a whole piece of crust from Mrs. Sheepshanks’ dinner (she can’t eat the crust with her rotting teeth).
I’ve never seen such a selfless little fellow, for as soon as he got his crust, he scampered through the hedge to his little lady and laid it at her feet. He’s quite unlike the others here, but very much like you, which is perhaps why I like him.
Do come for me soon. I ache to be away from here and with my own dear lover, as my little friend is.
I love you, darling,