A STRONG SOUTH-EASTER.
I have been having further trouble with my neighbour, Petherton, whose place adjoins mine, being divided from it by a hedge. Beyond the hedge lies Petherton's small paddock, where his poultry amuse themselves, and, beyond that, Petherton's house and garden.
But, however good a fence may be, it will not keep out, or keep in, smells. Therefore when Petherton engaged in apparently chemical operations giving off the most noxious gases I was rapidly forced to the conclusion that he ought to have a different kind of boundary between his property and mine, and also that the air of our neighbourhood no longer rivalled that of Bexhill, especially when the wind blew from the south-east.
Wishing to remedy this state of affairs without recourse to unpleasant measures, I sat down to write to Petherton.
Dear Petherton,—These continual south-easterly winds portend rain, I fear, and so I hope you have wrapped your parsnips up to protect them from the probable excess of moisture which is so injurious to all such plants.
My primary object in writing is not so much anxiety about the health of your vegetables, but to ask whether you have noticed a most unpleasant odour which seems to be heading north-west; at any rate it is more unpleasant if possible when the wind is from the south-east than at any other time.
It does not appear likely that the smell should have come from the German lines, so we must look nearer home for the cause of the trouble. Don't you think we ought to take joint action to get the nuisance ended?
Yours, H. J. Fordyce.
Petherton's reply was a bulky packet which, being opened, revealed a tin of dog soap. I could only infer that he wished to saddle Togo, our prize-bred Airedale, with the blame. Coward!
However, true to my determination to be friendly if possible, I wrote:—
Dear Fred,—Thanks for the Camembert. Thomas our cat has not quite completed the Moonlight Sonata which he has spent several nights in composing, but as soon as it is published I will send you a copy of it in return.
My nephew, over from France on short leave, came to see us yesterday but left hurriedly. He said that the air was too reminiscent of a place where he was severely gassed. Don't you notice anything?
Yours as ever, H. J. Fordyce.
Within an hour of the delivery of this letter another parcel arrived from Petherton. It contained three ordinary clothes-pegs and a brief note, which ran:—
Sir,—I thought even you would be able to take the hint contained in my previous parcel. As however it was evidently lost on you, I am writing to suggest to you more plainly that you should wash your dog. I noticed its deplorable condition when I passed it in the road the other morning, and am surprised that the simple explanation of the trouble has not occurred to you before.
Should the course I recommend have no good effect, I can only suggest your shooting, selling or otherwise disposing of the malodorous pest, or else wearing one of the protectors of which I enclose three. They are somewhat archaic in design, but should just suit you and your household.
Yours faithfully,
Frederick Petherton.