ed.
And just to satisfy you about this last one, which I put as usual in
my breast pocket at the back of my other papers--" I produced the
contents of my pocket. As I expected the letter was not there.

"Why do you carry so many papers in your pocket? What are they all
about?"

"Candidly, my dear, I do not know. Without the element of surprise
life would be unbearably monotonous. That element I deliberately
carry with me in my breast pocket. When a dull moment comes I empty
my pockets. It would surprise you--"

"Nothing you do surprises me," said Clara. "Now go upstairs, please,
and make yourself tidy. Have a dull moment--not more than one, for
dinner is nearly ready--and get rid of those papers."

Although my wife has not a logical process of thought, at times she
makes sensible remarks. I took her advice. As I anticipated I had some
surprises.

A few important business memoranda, a sugar form, two income tax
demands, a number of private letters and an unpaid coal account made
up the collection. There was really nothing I could part with. Luckily
I found two duplicates of the coal account. These I could spare. As I
opened one of them Mrs. Roberts's letter fell out of it.

I had just time to catch the post. I managed to reach the front-door
unobserved. My wife opened the dining-room window to tell me that
dinner was ready. I told her I had forgotten to post a very important
business letter.

"A most unusual occurrence," I said.

"Mary can post it for you. Dinner's on the table." Clara extended her
hand for the letter. I explained that it was so very important that I
could not even trust Mary.

"Mary's sex is, of course, against her," said my wife, "but I'll tell
her to hold the letter out at arm's length. You can see her all the
way from the window and watch her put it in the pillar-box."

A little candour is sometimes necessary.

"Strangely enough," I said, "the five-thousandth chance has come off.
It is true the letter is important, but the business is yours, and
the letter is addressed to Mrs. Roberts. I forgot to post it this
morning."

"I know you did," said Clara. "You left it behind, and I posted it
myself."

Here I saw that I was going to score. "Then what is this?" I asked
in triumph.

"This," said Clara, taking it from me, "is the letter you forgot to
post ten days ago."

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Mrs. Judkins_ (_beating up against the draught in the
Tube