W.H.P.

The task of being “German Ambassador to Great Britain” was evidently not without its irritations.

     To Arthur W. Page

     September 15, 1915.

     DEAR ARTHUR: 

Yesterday was my German day.  When the boy came up to my room, I told him I had some official calls to make.  “Therefore get out my oldest and worst suit.”  He looked much confused; and when I got up both my worst and best suits were laid out.  Evidently he thought he must have misunderstood me.  I asked your mother if she was ready to go down to breakfast.  “Yes.”—­“Well, then I’ll leave you.”  She grunted something and when we both got down she asked:  “What did you say to me upstairs?” I replied:  “I regard the incident as closed.”  She looked a sort of pitying look at me and a minute or two later asked:  “What on earth is the matter with you?  Can’t you hear at all?” I replied:  “No.  Therefore let’s talk.”  She gave it up, but looked at me again to make sure I was all there.

     I stopped at the barber shop, badly needing a shave.  The barber got
     his brush and razor ready.  I said:  “Cut my hair.”  He didn’t talk
     for a few minutes, evidently engaged in deep thought.

When I got to my office, a case was brought to me of a runaway American who was caught trying to send news to Germany.  “Very good,” said I, “now let it be made evident that it shall appear therefore that his innocence having been duly established he shall be shot.”

     “What, sir?”

     “That since it must be evident that his guilt is genuine therefore
     see that he be acquitted and then shot.”

     Laughlin and Bell and Stabler were seen in an earnest conference in
     the next room for nearly half an hour.

Shoecraft brought me a letter.  “This is the most courteous complaint about the French passport bureau we have yet had.  I thought you’d like to see this lady’s letter.  She says she knows you.”

     “Do not answer it, then.”

     He went off and conferred with the others.

     Hodson spoke of the dog he sold to Frank.  “Yes,” said I, “since he
     was a very nice dog, therefore he was worthless.”

     “Sir?”

     And he went off after looking back at me in a queer way.

The day went on in that fashion.  When I came out to go to lunch, the stairs down led upward and I found myself, therefore, stepping out of the roof on to the sidewalk—­the house upside down.  Smith looked puzzled.  “Home, Sir?”

     “No.  Go the other way.”  After he had driven two or three blocks, I
     told him to turn again and go the other way—­home!

     Your mother said almost as soon as I got into the door—­“What was
     the matter with you this morning?”

     “Oh, nothing.  You forget that I am the German Ambassador.”