"But you said it had to be a 'jolly' one."
"Yes, that was silly of me. I didn't mean that. Just write what you want to write—never mind about what I said."
"Oh, but that's easy," said Jeremy with great relief; "I can do that on my head."
And this was the letter (whether he wrote it on his head or not I cannot say):—
"My Dear Mr. Mackinnon,—You are not married, I believe, but perhaps you will be some day when the War is over. You will then get to know of a very maddening trick which wives have. You hand them a letter over the coffee-pot beginning, 'Dear Smith, I saw a little water-colour of yours in the Academy and admired it very much. The what-do-you-call-it is so well done, and I like that broad effect. Please accept an earldom,'—but, before they read any of it at all, they turn to the signature at the end and say, 'Why, Jeremy, it's from the King!' And then all your beautiful surprise is gone.
"Now I don't mention this in order to put you off marriage, because there is a lot more in it than letters over the coffee-pot, and all the rest is delightful. But I want to tell you that, if (as I expect) you are keeping the signature of this letter for the surprise, you will be disappointed. I am sorry about it. I tried various signatures with a surprise to them (you would have liked my 'Hall Caine,' I think), but I decided that I had best stick to the one I have used for so many years, 'J. P. Smith.' It will make you ask that always depressing question, 'Who is J. P. Smith?' but this I cannot help. Besides, I want to tell you who he is.
"An hour ago he was sitting in front of a fire of logs, smoking a cigar. He had just finished dinner, so good a dinner that he was congratulating his wife on it as she sat knitting on the other side of the fire. If he had a complaint to make at all, it was perhaps that the fire was a little too hot; perhaps when he went upstairs he would find that a little too hot also was the bottle in his bed. One has these hardships to face. To complete the picture, I ask you to imagine a door closed rather noisily kitchenwards, and an exclamation of annoyance from Mr. Smith. He passes it off by explaining that he was thinking of the baby rather than of himself.
"Well, there you have this J. P. Smith person ... and at the same hour what was this man Mackinnon doing? I don't know; you do. But perhaps you will understand now why I want to say 'Thank you.' I know what you will answer: 'Good Lord, I'm only doing my job, I don't want to be kissed for it.' My dear Mackinnon, you don't understand. I am not very kindly writing to you; you are very kindly letting me write. This is my birthday, not yours. I give myself the pleasure of thanking you; as a gentleman you cannot refuse it to me.
"Yours gratefully, J. P. Smith."
"You dear," said Mrs. Jeremy. "He'll simply love it."