Garth: Oh, I don't know. Once when Fogger and I were out by the Rip, we saw a queer sort of thing. I thought it was the ghost of a ship, but it might have been a cloud-bank, of course, or a mirage or something. It was standing in toward Trasket—hand me the milk, please—but it was too far off to tell much.

J. K.: If your father thinks that I can sail well enough, you and I might take the Ailouros and go treasure-hunting some day on Trasket Rock. (I told you she was improving, Brob!)

Inarticulate sounds of joy from Garth at the suggestion. I must go in and see that he doesn't eat all the marmalade.

Please don't work too hard. I wish I could see what you are doing. When town is too horrid, try to think of us being so happy out here and wishing for you.