Realm of the InterNutter

Chapter Twenty-five.
(The funeral, Sudden learning, Absent friends, and Another disastrous dinner)

Yesterday afternoon had been a medicine to his soul. Just what he'd needed to face today. He shaved and groomed himself with every care. To bid a lovely stranger farewell.

Somber, black clothes. No decorations. No shining jewels. Just the raven-black ribbon on his top hat. The Admiral his father said that mourning dress made Peter look like a lamppost in search of a corner. That could not be helped.

Chapter Twenty-four.
(The happy mask of an angry man, A need for more than legacy, Taking a stand, and Going to feed the ducks)

Iris was glad she had finished the current document that the Colonel had dictated. The Admiral's booming greeting nearly scared her out of her skin.

Especially since it was a genial, "There you are, my dear boy," he cheered as if Colonel Walter was a favoured rich relative. "So nice to see this place coming to order. And

Chapter Twenty-three.
(Enforced health initiatives, The need of invention, An enlisted automaton, and Some very despicable lies)

Admiral Reginaldfield Chesterpot Walter was absolutely certain that Mrs Clambridge was using his infirmity against him. She was making him take in sunshine. And forcing him to have regular bedtimes. And sitting him to meals that his wife used to make him eat. He also knew for a fact that she had confiscated every ounce of snuff in the house because all of his hiding

Chapter Twenty-two.
(The need for fixing, What must be done, Utter chaos upstairs, and How well did you know her?)

Iris could see the exact moment when her words killed him. The joy bled out of him, starting with the twinkle in his eye. Then the light in his presence. Then the straightness in his stance.

"No," he whispered. "No, it's not fair. No. No. No... I worked so hard..." His hands started to shake. No. Not shake. Wriggle. Like he was

Chapter Twenty-one.
(The freight train of recollection, How much was a dream? The automaton giraffe, and The worst of invitations)

For the first time since he'd began his desperate project, Peter was supremely comfortable. Rested. At ease. At peace. He was warm and relaxed and his only discomfort the growing pressure in his bladder. And a slight niggle of hunger.

Peter rolled over and opened his eyes to the familiar wallpaper of his bedroom. He didn't remember coming here. He certainly didn't