"Mr. B. is most religious and competent man, also heavily upright and godly, it fears me useless apply for his signature. Please attach same by Yokohama Office, making forge, but no cause for fear of prison happenings as this is often operated by other merchants of highest integrity. "It is the highest unfortunate Sir. B. is so godlike and excessive awkward for business purposes." So there you have Mr. B. Some day, perhaps, he may read this letter and realise how extremely awkward an inflexible standard of morality can make things for one's neighbours. The last sentence of all has a pathetic ring, as of a Utopian throwing up the sponge: "I think much better to add little serpent-like wisdom to upright manhood and thus found good business edifice." * * * * * "L1 down secures a ---- bicycle for you in time for Whitsuntide." _Advt. in "Yorkshire Observer, June 9."_ So if you are in a hurry and want it by next Christmas you had better go somewhere else. * * * * * THE MAN OF THE EVENING. To be perfectly fair, it was not that Dorice gave me too few instructions, but rather too many. "I'm over at Naughton," she said through the telephone; "I'm staying with some people named Perry." "How ripping of you to ring me up!" I said, flattered; "it's heavenly to hear your voice, even if I can't see you." It was a pretty little speech, but Dorice ignored it. "There is a dance on here, to-night," she continued hastily, "and at the last minute they are short of men, so I've promised to get them someone." I gripped the receiver firmly and groaned. I knew what was coming. Dorice proposed that I should leave the office _instantly_ and catch the next train to Naughton. She adopted rushing tactics with which it was practically impossible to cope. All the time I was explaining to her how busy I was, and how I found it out of the question even to think of leaving the office, she kept on giving me varied and hurried directions. I was to be sure to remember the steps she had taught me last time. I was not to take any notice of a dark girl in a red dress, because she wasn't the slightest bit nice when you really got to know her. I was to drive straight to the hall, where Dorice would be looking out for me. "And now I can't stay any longer, and you must fly and catch the train, and so 'good-bye,' and I'll keep some dances for you!" "Half a minute," I protested. "Where do I----? What is the name of----?" But Dorice, with that delightful suddenness which is one of her most charming characteristics, had rung off, leaving my destination a mystery. However, there was no time to worry about details. I told a dreadful lie to a man with whom I had an appointment, left the office and did wonderful things in the way of changing my clothes, packing my bag, and boarding a moving train. At Naughton station I engaged a cab.