CONCERT TICKETS.
I'm beginning to think that Petherton has taken a dislike to me, and it is not at all pleasant in a more or less country retreat to be on bad terms with a neighbour.
It is especially trying, when one has made every endeavour to be friendly, to meet with a chilling response. I'm sure I have written him some very genial letters on matters which less good-tempered individuals than I might have taken more seriously.
The Annual Concert in the village, a great event in local circles, has been another cause of unnecessary friction between Petherton and myself.
As one of the older residents and knowing most of the people here, I am usually consulted as to the programme, sale of tickets and other details of the concert, and my house is often used for rehearsing the solos, part songs and choruses which are rendered by the local Carusos and Melbas.
Our passage of arms was over the tickets. We who are on the Committee are supplied with so many tickets each, which we endeavour to sell. I sent two to Petherton, half-crown ones. I forgot to enclose the printed notice that usually accompanies them, but evidently he recognised my handwriting on the envelope, and sent the tickets back. He wrote a letter with them:—
Sir,—I received the enclosed, presumably from you, because the almost illegible scrawl on the envelope was yours without a doubt. Why you should try to bribe me with five shillings-worth of tickets for the Annual Concert I cannot conceive. Perhaps you are going to sing at it and are anxious that I should come to hear you. I shall deny myself that pleasure. I hear quite enough of you in the afternoons (this, no doubt, referred to the rehearsals). Should I change my mind, which is unlikely, I am quite able to purchase tickets.
I replied:—
Dear Mr. Petherton,—I am beginning my letter, as you see, in the formal way, but from your opening move I foresee that a more affectionate tone will supervene before we are through with the matter in hand. This will be in accordance with the immemorial custom that has prevailed in the delightful intercourse between us on various subjects. Now, as to the Concert. My suggestion, mutely expressed through a little forgetfulness on my part, missed fire. If this isn't expressed clearly I mean I hoped you would understand that I sent the tickets because I hoped that you would buy them. Or, to put the matter very plainly, I sent you two tickets. Have you 5s. that's doing nothing? If so, send it me for goodness' sake, and keep the tickets, which I'm sending back in this. If the 5s. is busy with the War Loan, don't disturb it of course, but send me the tickets back, or sell them to somebody else. I think that's all clear, so now we'll get on to the next point. I don't sing—outside a church. I fancy it's Wright, the blacksmith, a fine upstanding bass with full-throated movement, that you can hear. He leaves his spreading chestnut-tree on Wednesdays and Fridays for rehearsals in my drawing-room, and it's difficult to keep his voice from straying over into your premises, even with the windows shut. I'm sorry if he annoys you, but, anyway, as the Concert takes place next Wednesday, he won't worry you much longer. I hope you will come in your group. I can send you more tickets if you need them.
Yours faithfully,
H. J. Fordyce.
I hope your hens are fruit-bearing. Eggs are a terrible price just now, aren't they?
The tickets came back next day with a curt note:—
Mr. Petherton begs to return the concert tickets and requests that Mr. Fordyce will not send them back again, as otherwise Mr. Petherton will not hold himself responsible in the event of their being lost or destroyed.
So I wrote again:—
Dear Petherton,—How perfectly splendid! Everything has worked out beautifully up till now. Your first note was pitched in just the proper key, and now comes your second, a perfect gem in its way. Your style reminds me more than ever of Chesterfield, to whom a chair was a chair and nothing more, but a couch was an inspiration. I enclose two yellow tickets this time. Perhaps you didn't like the others. Some people don't care for pink tickets. These jolly little yellow chaps are only 1s. each, a consideration in these hard times.
Yours very sincerely,
Harry Fordyce.
P.S.—We have a job line of green tickets at 6d. each to clear. Perhaps you would care to look at some. We are selling quite a lot of them this year.
Petherton's reply to this was an envelope containing the fragments of two yellow tickets and a sheet of notepaper inscribed "With Mr. Frederick Petherton's compliments."
As the tickets would have to be accounted for, of course there was nothing for it but to send him a bill, so I sent him one:—
F. Petherton, Esq.,
In a/c with the Purbury Concert Committee.
To 2 tickets in yellow cardboard, 3 in. by 2-1/2 in., printed in black, with embellishments, the whole giving right of entry to the Purbury Annual Concert to be held on June 28, 1916 ... 2s.
Your kind attention will oblige.
To this Petherton made no reply, so after a few days I bought the tickets for (and from) myself, and wrote to Petherton:—
Dear Freddy,—You will be glad to hear that I have found someone to take your yellow tickets off my hands at the full market price. Sorry to find that the War has hit you so badly. Certainly two bob is two bob, as you apparently wish me to infer. However it is a blessing to know that the Tommies will get the extra cigarettes, isn't it? It's a pity you won't be at the concert. Your cheery presence will be greatly missed, especially by
Your old pal,
Harry.
The reply I received:—
Who the devil said I shouldn't be at the concert? I bought a dozen pink tickets from the Vicar as soon as I heard you were not going to perform.
Frederick Petherton.
It seems evident that Petherton has taken a dislike to me for some reason or other.
Doctor (to wounded soldier who is on "low diet"). "Is there anything you want, my lad?"
Irishman. "Och, doctor, if ye'd be givin' me a nice fat goose for me dinner, now?"
Doctor. "Ah, and I suppose you'd like it stuffed with something special, eh?"
Irishman. "Indeed and I would. I'd like it stuffed with another wan!"