BUT WILL ASAP. LOVE FROM YOUR SENIOR APPRENTICE, SEPTIMUS XXX. PS PLEASE
TELL MRS BEETLE THAT BEETLE IS FINE
SERVICE REQUIRED (SELECT ONE ONLY):
AT OUR CONVENIENCE
EXPRESS
He circled EXPRESS and handed in the form.
The clerk checked the form and frowned. He stabbed a grumpy finger at the box that read SENDER. Septimus had signed his name with his usual illegible flourish. "What's that?" he asked.
"My name," replied Septimus.
The clerk sighed. "Well, that's a start, I suppose. So where are the actual letters, then?"
"Do you want me to write it again?" asked Septimus, trying to keep his patience.
"I'll do it," snapped the clerk.
"Okay."
"So what is it?"
"What is what?"
The clerk sighed once more and said, very slowly, "Your name, sonny. What is it? I need to know so that I can write it down, see?"
Septimus was not surprised that there was a long line at the COMPLAINTS counter.
"Septimus Heap," he said.
Laboriously the clerk got out a glue pot and stuck a piece of paper on top of the offending signature. He got Septimus to spell out his name three times and made a good deal of fuss writing it down. At last he finished and tossed the message into a box marked Sealing and Dispatch. A general sigh of relief accompanied Septimus paying the postage and at last leaving the counter.
"Hey, you! Septimus Heap!" a voice called out. Septimus spun around and saw the clerk at the RECEIVE counter beckoning to him. "I got a message for you."
"Me?" Septimus went up to the counter.
The clerk at the RECEIVE counter, a former sea captain with a bushy white beard, was a distinct improvement on the clerk at the SEND counter. He smiled. "You are Septimus Heap, aren't you?"
Septimus nodded, puzzled. "Yes, but I'm not expecting any messages."
"Well, ain't it your lucky day, then?" said the clerk, and handed Septimus a small envelope with his name printed on it in the distinctive Pigeon Post type. "Sign 'ere please," said the clerk, and pushed a piece of paper across to Septimus. Somewhat self-consciously, Septimus signed his name and pushed the paper back to the clerk, who made no comment.
"Thank you," said Septimus.
"You're welcome," said the clerk with a smile. "We're open until midnight if you want to send a reply. Next please."
Septimus and Beetle stopped under a lantern a safe distance away from the Pigeon Post Office. After glancing up to check that there were no pigeons roosting above, Septimus opened the envelope, which was stamped in red with the words PPO NON
STANDARD MESSAGE SAFETY ENVELOPE. He drew out a scrappy piece of paper and, as he read, a look of bafflement spread across his face.
"What does it say?" asked Beetle.
"I don't understand...it's a recipe for cabbage soup."
"Turn it over," said Beetle. "There's writing on the other side."