The Wight smiled contently. He had received many cards, letters and parcels, and held each dear. Munching happily upon a piece of slushy mail-cake, he took hold of the next envelope, a delightful maroon in colour, and opened it as best he could with sticky fingers. He pulled out the letter therein, smearing it with not a little green icing, and read:
Quote:
To The Barrow Wight,
You must be nuts. Or perhaps you are a squirrel, in which case, you should be proud of your collection. In any case, I thank you for providing me with a place where deep thought and sly humour so often coincide, a place where friends can meet.
May you break your relative silence some day soon, and return to this world of your thinking,
The Truncated One.
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