"Oh!" (Pause.) "What about the offer? Mr. Lethos says that ninetenths of what is written nowadays is only worth the ink and paper."
"The offer," I reminded her, "will come later."
"Oh! I just thought—— You might get rid of those articles on 'Happiness in the Home' at cost price. They're running up to quite a lot in stamps."
I posted the letter to the Editor.
Next morning I seized the paper nervously. There was my name at the end of a column and a half. I had begun.
I sat down to wait for the next step. It came with the mid-day post in a letter from Saxby, who is—or was—my friend.
"Good old Tibbles," it ran; "I knew some juggins would rise, whatever I wrote. But fancy landing you!—Yours ever, Beefers."
Now how can a man save his country on a thing like that?