Brother, I beseech you, take immediate action.  The horror of our plight cannot be exaggerated.  Do something—­anything.  Misrepresent facts, corrupt honesty, suborn the faithful, but—­procure a cook.

My maw reminds me that it is the hour of grape-nuts, so I must go.

BERRY.

P.S.—­If you can’t raise one, I shouldn’t come back.  Just go to some high place and quietly push yourself off.  It will be simpler and avoid a scene which would be painful to us both.

“That’s rather worse than the advertisement,” said Daphne.  “But, as Jonah is accustomed to your Interpretation of the art of letter-writing, I suppose it doesn’t much matter.”

“When,” said Berry, “you are making yourself sick upon tete de veau en tortue and crepes Suzette, I shall remind you of those idle words.”

* * * * *

The advertisement appeared for the first time on Thursday morning.

As I entered the dining-room at half-past nine—­

“It’s in,” said Jill.  “On the front page.”

“Yes,” said Berry, “it’s most arresting.  Applicants will arrive from all over the kingdom.  It’s inevitable.  Nothing can stop them.  Old and trusted retainers will become unsettled.  The domestic upheaval will be unparalleled.”

I read the advertisement through.  In cold print my handiwork certainly looked terribly alluring.  Then I laid down the paper and strolled to the window.  It had been raining, but now the sun was out, and the cool fresh air of the June morning was sweet and winsome.  As I looked into the glistening street—­

“It’s a bit early yet,” continued Berry.  “Give ’em a chance.  I should think they’ll start about ten.  I wonder how far the queue will reach,” he added reflectively.  “I hope the police take it past The Albert Memorial.  Then they can sit on the steps.”

“Nonsense,” said I a little uneasily.  “We may get an answer or two to-morrow.  I think we shall.  But cooks are few and far between.”

“They won’t be few and they’ll be anything but far between by twelve o’clock.”  He tapped the provocative paragraph with an accusing finger.  “This is a direct incitement to repair to 7, Cholmondeley Street, or as near thereto as possible——­”

“I wish to goodness we hadn’t put it in,” said Daphne.

“It’s done now,” said her husband, “and we’d better get ready.  I’ll turn them down in the library, you can stand behind the what-not in the drawing-room and fire them from there, and Boy’d better go down the queue with some oranges and a megaphone, and keep on saying we’re suited right up to the last.”

In silence I turned to the sideboard.  It was with something of an effort that I helped myself to a thick slab of bacon which was obviously but half-cooked.  From the bottom of a second dish a black and white egg, with a pale green yoke, eyed me with a cold stare.  With a shudder I covered it up again....  After all, we did want a cook, and if we were bombarded with applications for the post, the probability of getting a good one was the more certain.