YOUR PARLIAMENTARY CORRESPONDENT.

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[Illustration:  Boarder (firmly).  “YOU MUST ALLOW ME ANOTHER KNOB OF COAL, MISS SKIMPLE.  MY NERVES WILL NO LONGER BEAR THE NOISE OF THESE SNEEZING CRICKETS.”]

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THE BOOM IN ARCHITECTURE.

Since that far-away period before the War, my architectural nerve has become sadly debilitated; so when a card (bearing the name of Carruthers) was brought to me the other morning I felt quite unmanned.

“Some potential client,” I observed inwardly, “who has heard of the removal of the five-hundred pound limit and has bearded me before I have had time to get the hang of T-square and compasses again.”

I liked the appearance of Mr. Carruthers, and his greeting had a slight ring of flattery in it that was very soothing.

“You are Mr. Bellamy, the architect?” he said.

“I am,” I replied; “at least I was before the War.”

“And have a large practice?” he resumed.

“I certainly had a large practice formerly,” I said.  “With my methods and experience one ought to acquire an extensive clientele.  I have been an architect, my dear sir, man and boy for over forty years, and have always followed the architectural fashions.  In the late seventies, when little columns of Aberdeen granite were the rage—­you know the stuff, tastes like marble and looks like brawn—­I went in for them hot and strong, and every building I touched turned to potted meat.  Then SHAW came along—­BERNARD, was it? no, NORMAN—­with his red brick and gables, and I got so keen that I moved to Bedford Park to catch the full flavour of it.

“Next, the Ingle-nooker’s found in me a willing disciple.  I designed rows of houses, all roofs and no chimneys, or all chimneys and no roofs, it didn’t matter which so long as there was an ingle-nook with a motto over it.  Why, after a time I got so expert that I simply designed an ingle-nook and the rest seemed to grow by itself.

“Just as the War started I had broken out in another place and was getting into my Italian loggia-pergola-and-sunk-garden stride, and then came the five-hundred pound limit and busted the whole show.  In fact, when you called I was wondering whether to chuck the business and go in for writing cinema plays.”

“When I want a really fashionable house built for me,” said Carruthers, “I shall certainly come to you.”

“Ah,” I said, “you have come to see me then on behalf of a friend?”

“On behalf,” he said, “of several friends.”

My chest swelled visibly.  “This man,” I said to myself, while reaching for my Corona Coronas, “is planning a garden city, or at least a group of houses on the communal plan.”

“The fact is,” said Carruthers, clearing his throat, “I am a scout-master, and my troop are collecting wastepaper, and I expect you have any amount of old plans and things that you—­”