DEAR O.D.,--I am rather hurt by your letters. I have written several times to tell you all about my new pianola, and you don't seem to take any interest at all. I was going to have told you this time that the man in the flat below has sent me a note, just as if it had been a real piano. He says he doesn't mind my playing all day, so long as I don't start before eight in the morning, as he is in his bath then, and in listening to the music quite forgets to come out sometimes, which, I can see, might be very awkward. Write to yours affectionately, THANKYOU VII DARLING THANKYOU,--I am so sorry, dear, and I will come and hear your pianola to-morrow, and I think it lovely, and you must be clever to play so well; but you mustn't be angry with me because I am so taken up with my walking. You see, it is all so new to me. I feel as though I want everybody to know all about it. Your pianola must be lovely, Thankyou. _Dear_ Thankyou, could you, do you think, put all the letters we wrote to each other about my walking in some book, so that other people would know how to do it the way I do? You might call it "Letters on Walking," or "How to Walk," or--but you could get a better title than I could. _Do!_ Your very loving O.D. P.S.--I'm so glad about the pianola, and do you mind if I just tell you that I _did_ walk round the table, corners and all? VIII DEAREST O.D.,--Right you are. I will think of a good title. Your loving THANKYOU THE KNIGHT OF THE CHIMNEY-PIECE We don't know his real name, but we have decided to call him Arthur. ("Sir Arthur," I suppose he would be.) He stands in bronze upon the chimney-piece, and in his right hand is a javelin; this makes him a very dangerous person. Opposite him, but behind the clock (Coward!), stands the other fellow, similarly armed. Most people imagine that the two are fighting for the hand of the lady on the clock, and they aver that they can hear her heart beating with the excitement of it; but, to let you into the secret, the other fellow doesn't come into the story at all. Only Margery and I know the true story. I think I told it to her one night when she wouldn't go to sleep--or perhaps she told it to me. The best of this tale (I say it as the possible author) is that it is modern. It were easy to have invented something more in keeping with the knight's armour, but we had to remember that this was the twentieth century, and that here in this twentieth century was Sir Arthur on the chimney-piece, with his javelin drawn back. For whom is he waiting?