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,