out p t o your work from your loving
little MARGIE."

I always think that footnotes to a letter are a mistake, but there are
one or two things I should like to explain.

(a) Just as some journalists feel that without the word "economic" a
leading article lacks tone, so Margery feels, and I agree with her, that
a certain _cachet_ is lent to a letter by a p. t. o. at the bottom of
each page.

(b) There are lots of grown-up people who think that "write" is spelt
"rite." Margery knows that this is not so. She knows that there is a
silent letter in front of the "r," which doesn't do anything, but likes
to be there. Obviously, if nobody is going to take any notice of this
extra letter, it doesn't much matter what it is. Margery happened to
want to make a "k" just then; at a pinch it could be as silent as a "w."
You will please, therefore, regard the "k" in "Krite" as absolutely
noiseless.

(c) Years ago I claimed the privilege to monopolise on the occasional
evenings when I was there, Margery's last ten minutes before she goes
back to some heaven of her own each night. This privilege was granted;
it being felt, no doubt, that she owed me some compensation for my early
secretarial work on her behalf. We used to spend the ten minutes in
listening to my telling a fairy story, always the same one. One day the
authorities stepped in and announced that in future the ten minutes
would be reduced to five. The procedure seemed to me absolutely illegal
(and I should like to bring an action against somebody) but it certainly
did put the lid on my fairy story, of which I was getting more than a
little tired.

"Tell me about Beauty and the Beast," said Margery as usual, that
evening.

"There's not time," I said. "We've only five minutes to-night."

"Oh! Then tell me all the work you've done to-day."

(A little unkind, you'll agree, but you know what relations are.)

And so now I have to cram the record of my day's work into five
breathless minutes. You will understand what bare justice I can do it in
the time.

I am sorry that these footnotes have grown so big; let us leave them and
return to the letter. There are many ways of answering such a letter.
One might say, "MY DEAR MARGERY,--It was jolly to get a real letter from
you at last----" but the "at last" would seem rather tactless
considering what had passed years before. Or one might say, "MY DEAR
MARGERY,--Thank you for your jolly letter. I am so sorry about baby's
knee