I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,

H.W.  HUTCHINSON.’

“This,” I said, as I finished reading the letter, “comes from the Great North-Southern Railway, and is addressed to me.  What do you think of it?”

“The miserable man,” said Francesca, “has split an infinitive, but he probably did it under the orders of the Railway Executive.”

“I don’t mind,” I said, “about his treatment of infinitives.  He may split them all to smithereens if he likes.  It’s the monstrous nature of his demand that vexes me.”

“What can you expect of a Railway Company?” said Francesca.  “Surely you didn’t suppose a company would display any of the finer feelings?”

“Francesca,” I said, “this is a serious matter.  If you are not going to sympathise with me, say so at once, and I shall know what to do.”

“Well, what will you do?”

“I shall plough my lonely furrow—­I mean, I shall write my lonely letter all by myself, and you shan’t help me to make up any of the stingers that I’m going to put into it.”

“Oh, my dear,” she said, “what is the use of writing stingers to a railway?  You might as well smack the engine because the guard trod on your foot.”

“Well, but, Francesca, I’m boiling over with indignation.”

“So am I,” she said, “but—­”

“But me no buts,” I said.  “Let’s boil over together and trounce Mr. Hutchinson.  Let us write a model letter for the use of season-ticket holders who have mislaid their tickets.  We’ll pack it full of sarcasm and irony.  We will make an appeal to the nobler sentiments of the Board of Directors.  We will remind them that they too are subject to human frailty, and—­”

“—­we will not send the letter, but will put it away until we’ve finished our boiling-over and have simmered down.”

“Francesca,” I said, “am I not going to be allowed to communicate to this so-called railway company my opinion of its conduct?  Are all the pearls of sarcasm with which my mind is teeming to be thrown away?”

“Well,” she said, “it would be useless to cast them before the Railway Executive.”

“Mayn’t I hint a hope that the penny-halfpenny will come in useful in a time of financial stress?”

“No,” she said decisively, “you are to do none of these things.  Of course they’ve behaved in a mean and shabby way, but they’ve got you fixed, and the best thing you can do is to get a postal order and send it off to Mr. Hutchinson.”

“Mayn’t I—­”

“No, certainly not.  Write a short and formal note and enclose the P.O.; and next time don’t forget your ticket.”

“If you’ll tell me how to make sure of that,” I said, “I’ll vote for having a statue of you put up.”

“Does everybody,” she said, “forget his season-ticket?”

“Yes,” I said, “everybody, at least once a year.”

R.C.L.

* * * * *