On arriving in London, Vaughan found his secretary with the usual heaps of letters. One envelope, addressed in a large and rather infantine hand, was put aside for him. The note ran—
"The Baldfaced Stag, Edgware.
"Dear Mr. Vaughan,
"I eard only yesterday that the play you kindly sent me and mother to was wrote by you, I call it a shame you didn't tell me before, we saw the name on the programme, but never thought it could be the same but yesterday mother saw a piece in the paper about you in the weekly dispatch and she said it was the same, I'm sory I said the people in the play went on silly I beg pardon for calling the play silly I wouldnt have done it if Id known, so hope youre not angry, they seemed to me to go on silly, but I dont reelly know much about those kind of ladies and gentlemen, we saw the piece in the paper only yesterday and mother said it was the same, we hope you will soon come again to tea the calf is better believe me yours truly
"Gladis Adelaide Brill."
He instantly wrote back—
"Dear Miss Brill,
"I am so relieved and thankful to hear the calf is better, all the more because I had no idea it had been indisposed. I fancied, though, it was looking a little pale the last time I had the pleasure of meeting it in the field. Please don't think again of your criticism. It gave me very great pleasure. You must think me very foolish. You could say nothing that I would not like except to ask me not to come and see you. I am very busy just now and so have little time for afternoon calls, but will come one of these days soon.
"Yours always,
"Gilbert Hereford Vaughan."
He waited a moment, and then added—