At the last moment a difficulty had arisen with regard to postage, as, between them, the two could not raise the thirteen shillings required to stamp the lot.
However, by a lucky accident Tom discovered a bundle of halfpenny wrappers, the property of the estate, which (after scrupulously writing an I.O.U.for the amount) he borrowed.
"Saved a clean six-and-six by that," he remarked, when the last was licked up; "that'll go into the fireworks." Jill, whose admiration for her brother's genius knew no bounds, felt almost happy.
It was Monday evening when the Yeld post-master was exercised in his mind by hearing a loud rap down-stairs, which on inquiry he found to have proceeded from the discharge of 150 mysterious-looking halfpenny missives, written in a very round hand, into his box.

Being an active and intelligent person, he felt it his duty to examine one, addressed, as it happened, to the Duke of Somewhere.

After some consideration, and a study of his rules and regulations, he came to the conclusion that the enclosure was of the nature of a letter, and thereupon proceeded to mark each with a claim for a penny excess postage.

Which done, he retired to his parlour, relieved in his mind.
Tom and Jill had more to do than to speculate on the adventures of their carefully-written cards.
"Now about grub!" said Tom that evening.
Once more Jill turned a little pale.

She had been dreading this fateful question all along.
"What do you think ?" said she diplomatically.
Tom, of course, had thought the problem out.
"We must keep it dark from the slaveys," said he, "at least till everybody comes, then they're bound to give us a leg up.