"Oh, you wouldn't have to listen to it. It would live in the basement, and Harry Lauder would help the girl to clean the knives and break the cups, and George Robey would make washing the dishes one grand sweet song. The basement would be a fairyland."
"All this doesn't seem to get us much further," she complained, "in deciding which of those houses we're going to take."
"Oh, doesn't it?" I said, and, sitting down, I wrote a few lines rapidly and handed her the draft for approval. She approved.
And that is why, if you look at The Times' "Domestic Situations" column to-morrow, you may see the following announcement:—
House-Parlourmaid Wanted
, helpless couple, where gramophone kept; state whether Hampstead, Chiswick or Shepherd's Bush preferred.
Evoe.
