and left it near the white stone, along with his scarf and gloves, stopping to marvel at how the snow fell, like a curtain along the perimeter. He began to make his way down the path with Mitsy in front, sniffing each inch of the ground with her brown nose. As he walked towards the cottage, Mr. Lowell said he felt he was in a dream; everything made perfect sense to him; the warm night air, almost Italian in its softness, the hum of insects in the hedgerows, the floating lights that drifted like little moons above your cottage, the winding path with its glowing pebbles, the joyous leap of the fiddle song. He could even make out your cottage, each window ablaze, and inside it were revelers, all wearing headdresses, he surmised, for all he could see were feathers. And on top of your roof swung your weathervane, which Mr. Lowell remarked looked exactly like a nymph out of Roman myth. And then suddenly the music shifted, another song started and Mr. Lowell saw that Mitsy was picking up her feet as though they hurt her. Then he too was picking up his feet, not just picking up his feet but also dancing, Mr. Goodfellow! He claimed he could not stop; kick kick went his legs like those of a marionette, into the air he leapt and soared, and beside him Mitsy danced too, whining in dismay the whole time. Mr. Lowell said he jigged right back down the path, right past the greatcoat and his gloves, and into the curtain of snow that continued to fall on Hedrington. Meanwhile the heat was rising in him for he had not done so much exercise in years, and his heart was pounding, and before he knew it he had removed his tailcoat and his tie and undone his collar and pulled his shirttails from his trousers. The basket, he believes he left on your path? Mr. Goodfellow? It is so absurd and yet I must ask you, is there magic afoot? I can think of no other explanation. Your neighbour, Elspeth Coltsfoot
Hedrington Hall North Hants Sunday 30th of May 1920 Dear Mr. Goodfellow, Sydney has returned! He was discovered this morning in his bed quite fast asleep, wearing nothing, Betsy divulged to me, but his wig. He says he does not recall coming home but has a vague recollection of dancing all night at your party. His uniform cannot be found. This is all too muddling. Elspeth Coltsfoot
Sam Grieve · 119