"DEAR SIR,--Enclosed please find cheque in payment of enclosed account. I must ask you either to enlarge the exit to our bath or to supply an emergency door. At present my morning and evening baths are in serious danger of clashing. Yours faithfully." My third attempt had more sting in it:-- "DEAR SIR,--Unless you do something to our bath I cannot send you enclosed cheque in payment of enclosed account. Otherwise I would have. Yours faithfully." At this point I whistled to Celia and laid the letters before her. "You see what it is," I said. "I'm not quite getting the note." "But you're so abrupt," she said. "You must remember that this is all coming quite as a surprise to him. You want to lead up to it more gradually." "Ah, perhaps you're right. Let's try again." I tried again, with this result:-- "DEAR SIR,--In sending you a cheque in payment of last quarter's rent I feel I must tell you how comfortable we are here. The only inconvenience--and it is indeed a trifling one, dear Sir--which we have experienced is in connection with the bathroom. Elegantly appointed and spacious as this room is, commodious as we find the actual bath itself, yet we feel that in the matter of the waste-pipe the high standard of efficiency so discernible elsewhere is sadly lacking. Were I alone I should not complain; but unfortunately there are two of us; and, for the second one, the weariness of waiting while the waters of the first bath exude drop by drop is almost more than can be borne. I speak with knowledge, for it is I who----" I tore the letter up and turned to Celia. "I'm a fool," I said. "I've just thought of something which will save me all this rotten business every morning." "I'm so glad. What is it?" "Why, of course--in future _I_ will go to the bath first." And I do. It is a ridiculously simple solution, and I cannot think why it never occurred to me before. A TRUNK CALL Last Wednesday, being the anniversary of the Wednesday before, Celia gave me a present of a door-knocker. The knocker was in the shape of an elephant's head (not life-size); and by bumping the animal's trunk against his chin you could produce a small brass noise. "It's for the library," she explained eagerly. "You're going to work there this morning, aren't you?" "Yes, I shall be very busy," I said in my busy voice. "Well, just put it up before you start, and then if I _have_ to interrupt you for anything important, I can knock with it. _Do_ say you love it." "It's a dear, and so are you. Come along, let's put it up." I got a small screw-driver, and with very little loss of blood managed to screw it into the door. Some people are born screwists, some are not. I am one of the nots. "It's rather sideways," said Celia doubtfully. "Osso erry," I said. "What?" I took my knuckle from my mouth. "Not so very," I repeated. "I wish it had been straight."