F ILLUSTRATIONS

"Never mind the ink, old horse. It'll soak in" _Frontispiece_

They had a momentary vision of an excited dog, framed in the doorway

"I've only bin and drove 'im further up," said Mrs. Beale

Things were not going very well on our model chicken farm

"Mr. Garnet," he said, "we parted recently in anger. I hope that
bygones will be bygones"

"I did think Mr. Garnet would have fainted when the best man said, 'I
can't find it, old horse'"

* * * * *

_A LETTER with a
POSTSCRIPT_

I

Mr. Jeremy Garnet stood with his back to the empty grate--for the time
was summer--watching with a jaundiced eye the removal of his breakfast
things.

"Mrs. Medley," he said.

"Sir?"

"Would it bore you if I became auto-biographical?"

"Sir?"

"Never mind. I merely wish to sketch for your benefit a portion of my
life's history. At eleven o'clock last night I went to bed, and at
once sank into a dreamless sleep. About four hours later there was a
clattering on the stairs which shook the house like a jelly. It was
the gentleman in the top room--I forget his name--returning to roost.
He was humming a patriotic song. A little while later there were a
couple of loud crashes. He had removed his boots. All this while
snatches of the patriotic song came to me through the ceiling of my
bedroom. At about four-thirty there was a lull, and I managed to get
to sleep again. I wish when you see that gentleman, Mrs. Medley, you
would give him my compliments, and ask him if he could shorten his
program another night. He might cut out the song, for a start."

"He's a very young gentleman, sir," said Mrs. Medley, in vague defense
of her top room.

"And it's highly improbable," said Garnet, "that he will ever grow
old, if he repeats his last night's performance. I have no wish to
shed blood wantonly, but there are moments when one must lay aside
one's personal prejudices, and act for the good of the race. A man who
hums patriotic songs at four o'clock in the morning doesn't seem to me
to fit into the scheme of universal happiness. So you will mention it
to him, won't you?"

"Very well, sir," said Mrs. Medley, placidly.

On the strength of the fact that he wrote for the newspapers and had
published two novels, Mrs. Medley regarded Mr. Garnet as an eccentric
individual who had to be humored. Whatever he did or said filled her
with a mild amusement. She received his daily haran