always ready for
that. Take your neighbour, old Diggles, and his mushroom-beds, for
instance. Thriving local industry--capital copy. Try your hand at half
a column, and call it 'A Fortune in Fungus.'"

"I 'm afraid I know nothing about mushrooms, with the exception of the
one I nearly died of," I replied, "and I'm not sufficiently acquainted
with Mr. Diggles to venture to invite his confidence respecting his
business."

"My dear man, I don't ask you to tell Diggles you're going to write
him up in the newspapers; he'd kick you off the premises; he doesn't
want his secrets given away to competitors. Just dodge the old man
round the sheds, get into conversation with his staff, keep your
eyes open generally and you'll pick up as much as you want for half a
column. And when you've got your notes together bring 'em along to me.
I'll put 'em shipshape for you."

I thanked him very gratefully.

The mushroom-sheds are situated in a field some distance from my
residence, and I found it rather a fatiguing walk. After tedious
watching in a cramped position through a gap in the hedge I saw Mr.
Diggles emerge from a shed and move away from my direction. I lost
no time in creeping forward under cover of my umbrella towards an
employee, who was engaged in tossing manure. I drew out my note-book
and interrogated him briefly and briskly.

"Do you rear from seeds or from cuttings?" I asked him. He scratched
his head and appeared in doubt. "Are your plants self-supporting," I
went on, "or do you train them on twigs? What would be the diameter
of your finest specimen?" He continued in doubt. I adopted a
conversational manner. "I suppose you'll be potting off soon? You
must get very fond of your mushrooms. I think one always gets fond of
anything which demands one's whole care and attention. I wonder if I
might have a peep at your _proteges_?"

I edged towards the door of one of the sheds, but he made no attempt
to accompany me. Instead he put his hands to his mouth and shouted,
"Hi, maister!"

Mr. Diggles promptly responded to the summons. There was no eluding
him. I put my note-book out of sight and inquired if he could oblige
me with a pound of fresh-culled mushrooms. He could, and he did. I
paid him four-and-sixpence for them, the control price presumably,
but he gave me no invitation to view the growing crops. I retraced
my steps without having collected even an opening paragraph for "A
Fortune in Fungus."

The next day fou