I have been aware for some time that she is engaged in the pleasurable occupation of what is known as keeping company with your factotum, but thought it wise not to interfere.

It is still in the air, as one might say, that you are engaged in experimental chemical work for the Government, and I should have thought, and hoped, that this would occupy your mind to the exclusion of such trivial affairs as servants’ love-making.

  Yours sincerely,
  HENRY J. FORDYCE.

Petherton quickly countered with:—­

SIR—­I am sorry that I should have appealed to you in vain.  It is not a pleasure to write to you, and it is positively distasteful to have to read your absurd letters in reply.  I passed George in the village this evening with his arm round your parlour-maid’s waist.  I was absolutely disgusted, and must emphatically protest against such familiarity even among the minor members of our households.

  Faithfully yours,
  FREDERICK PETHERTON.

Joyously I rushed to respond:—­

DEAR PETHERTON,—­Your letters, on the contrary, are a positive delight to me.  One of the reasons why I should not like to interfere is the feeling that it might put an end to our correspondence.

Personally I cannot visualize the spectacle of similar familiarity between any of the major members of our respective households.

I myself passed your man this evening as I was on my way to the Vicarage, and at the moment he was in mild dalliance with our housemaid.  I say mild because they were only arm-in-arm.  On my return about an hour later I passed George again, and it is true that this time he was with our parlour-maid, and had his arm round her waist as you describe.

There is no doubt that the young man has a penchant for my staff, but so far no Government secrets have reached my ears, and no details of your personal doings, past, present or future.

“Carry on” is the motto of the day, so why not let well alone?  Were you never a young man?

  Ever yours,
  HARRY FORDYCE.

Petherton was getting very worked-up, to judge from his reply:—­

SIR,—­I disapprove of your levity.  This is a serious matter to me.  On your own showing George’s behaviour is scandalous, and although I should scarcely expect you to look at the matter in its proper light I should have thought that even you would have interfered now that matters have reached such a state.  Your attitude is intolerable.

I am well able to protect the Government’s secrets, and my movements could be of little interest even to you, but I do not think the society of your maids desirable for a young man like George.  I strongly suspect that they are having a bad influence over him.  He is becoming careless in his work.

I accidentally overheard him say, in conversation with the grocer’s man, that he was—­to use his own expression—­walking out with a Miss Parsons.  Is this either your parlour-maid or housemaid? or is it some third person?