I was still further discouraged.  I felt bound in honour to comply, if possible, with Filmer’s comparatively simple request.  By chance I ran across Timberley, a man brimful of resource and suggestion.  “You want a brewery,” he said; “that’s the milieu for a raven.  To my mind no brewery is artistically complete without one.  A raven hopping about the casks gives a je ne sais quoi, a cachet, to the premises.  You should get an introduction to a manager.”

With some difficulty I did, and I waited upon him in his private office.  He seemed immersed in business and asked me to be seated in such a brusque manner that I had no alternative but to remain standing.

“I must apologise for trespassing upon your valuable time, but it has been suggested to me that no brewery is complete without a raven—­” I began, stammering slightly from nervousness.

“Well, we’ve got one.  What about it?” he said.

In face of this unlooked-for development I could do nothing but bow and retire.

After this third failure to house the bird I threw convention to the winds and took to accosting utter strangers in the street with, “Will you have a raven?” I went rides in trams and tubes and canvassed the passengers.  “Not to-day, thank you,” was the response, save in a few instances.  One man invited me to ask him again and he would do me in.  A lady to whom I propounded the query as we were descending the moving staircase side by side precipitated herself forward with such haste that but for the intervening travellers she must have fallen headlong to the bottom.  The mother of a family to whom I appealed shook her head politely and said she was obliged to me for the offer, but it was hard enough to pay for butcher’s meat; she couldn’t afford poultry.

Then at last, all my efforts having failed, I reluctantly took my pen and wrote to Filmer.  In reply I received another of his scrawls:—­

“What’s this about a raven?  Don’t let it grow on you.  The Victory Croquet Club is taking my ROLLER, L7 carriage forward.  I gave L3 10s. for it second-hand ten years ago.

“N.B.—­I had great difficulty in reading your writing.  Don’t cultivate illegibility; it’s tiresome for your friends.”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  NO, THIS IS NOT A CELEBRATED COMEDIAN TELLING A FUNNY STORY; IT’S MERELY A PRIVATE CITIZEN THREATENING TO REPORT TO THE PROFITEERING COMMITTEE.]

* * * * *

    “Referring to charges of drunkenness the Chairman said there were 13
    men and five women fined for drunkenness and residing at Chiswick.”—­
    Local Paper.

To reside at Chiswick may be an eccentricity, but surely is not an offence.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Auctioneer. “COME, GENTS, HOW MUCH FOR THESE DOZEN BRACES?”

Tommy. “CAN’T TAKE MORE’N ELEVEN, GUV’NOR.  LOST MY SECOND-BEST EVENING TROUSERS ON THE SOMME.”]