_Mrs. C._ One's quite enough for _me_. It's been getting worse, too, these last few weeks, and I'm delighted to meet a fellow-sufferer. Come; can't we concoct some joint scheme of deliverance? Do you think it would answer if I sent round a polite note--"Mrs. CRUMPINGTON presents her compliments to Mr."--whatever their name is--"and would be extremely obliged,"--and so on. How would that do? _Mr. L._ (_decisively_). Wouldn't be the least use, I assure you, or I'd have tried that plan myself long ago. The only result would be that they'd make more row than ever, on purpose to score off you. No, I fancy I've got a better plan than that. _Mrs. C._ (_eagerly_). Oh, do tell me what it is! _Mr. L._ Well, I happened to notice in a shop in Holborn the other day one of these new American toys, it's a kind of small fog-horn, driven by a pair of bellows. And the noise it makes is something terrific, I assure you--loud enough to drown half-a-dozen pianos. So I've ordered one of these, and as soon as ever that scoundrel strikes up next door, I shall turn on the horn; then, directly he stops, I'll stop too, you see. Rather a good idea, don't you think? _Mrs. C._ (_much amused_). It is, _indeed!_ If only the poor wretch next door knew what was in store for him! Oh, if only I could silence _my_ enemy in that way! But then, of course, I can't a blow a horn. _Mr. L._ That isn't necessary; all you have to do is to work the bellows, and the thing goes by itself. Really, I strongly recommend you to invest in one. _Mrs. C._ It would be a good plan, wouldn't it? Where did you say they are to be had? _Mr. L._ I'll write down the address, if I can find a scrap of paper. [_Takes out a card-case from his pocket, pencils address on back of visiting card, and hands it to_ Mrs. C. _Mrs. C._ Thank you _so_ much, I'll certainly think about getting one (_looks absently at the other side of the card_) if they're not too dear, and----(_Gasping._) Good gracious heavens! _Mr. L._ (_anxiously_). What's the matter? Are you ill? _Mrs. C._ (_pointing to the printed side of the card in her hand_). Is this your real address? _Mr. L._ (_much astonished_). "No. 1, Yarborough Gardens?" Yes, certainly it is. Why do you ask? _Mrs. C._ (_faintly_). Because--because _I_ live next door at No. 3!! [_Tableau! Curtain._ * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT THE NEW WOMAN WILL MAKE OF THE NEW MAN! "IF YOU WANT ME TO KEEP THE NEXT DANCE FOR YOU, YOU MUST WAIT UNDER THIS DOOR. I CAN'T GO RUSHING ALL OVER THE ROOM TO _LOOK_ FOR YOU, YOU KNOW!"] * * * * * THE OLLENDORF GUIDE TO KNOWLEDGE. THE CARETAKER.