“Our lives run in different grooves. I live for MY ART—THE STAGE. Your life is devoted to commercial pursuits—‘A life among Ledgers.’ My books are of different metal. Your life in the City is honourable, I admit. _But how different_! Cannot even you see the ocean between us? A channel that prevents the meeting of our brains in harmonious accord. Ah! But _chaçun à son goût_. “I have registered a vow to mount the steps of fame. I may crawl, I may slip, I may even falter (we are all weak), but _reach the top rung of the ladder I will_!!! When there, my voice shall be heard, for I will shout to the multitudes below: ‘_Vici_!’ For the present I am only an amateur, and my work is unknown, forsooth, save to a party of friends, with here and there an enemy. “But, Mr. Pooter, let me ask you, ‘What is the difference between the amateur and the professional?’ “None!!! “Stay! Yes, there is a difference. One is _paid_ for doing what the other does as skilfully for _nothing_! “But I will be _paid_, too! For _I_, contrary to the wishes of my family and friends, have at last elected to adopt the stage as _my_ profession. And when the _farce_ craze is over—and, _mark you_, _that will be soon_—I will make my power known; for I feel—pardon my apparent conceit—that there is no living man who can play the hump-backed Richard as I _feel_ and _know_ I can. “And _you_ will be the first to come round and bend your head in submission. There are many matters you may understand, but knowledge of the fine art of acting is to you an _unknown quantity_. “Pray let this discussion cease with this letter. _Vale_! Yours truly, “BURWIN-FOSSELTON.” I was disgusted. When Lupin came in, I handed him this impertinent letter, and said: “My boy, in that letter you can see the true character of your friend.” Lupin, to my surprise, said: “Oh yes. He showed me the letter before he sent it. I think he is right, and you ought to apologise.” CHAPTER XII A serious discussion concerning the use and value of my diary. Lupin’s opinion of ’Xmas. Lupin’s unfortunate engagement is on again. DECEMBER 17.—As I open my scribbling diary I find the words “Oxford Michaelmas Term ends.” Why this should induce me to indulge in retrospective I don’t know, but it does. The last few weeks of my diary are of minimum interest. The breaking off of the engagement between Lupin and Daisy Mutlar has made him a different being, and Carrie a rather depressing companion. She was a little dull last Saturday, and I thought to cheer her up by reading some extracts from my diary; but she walked out of the room in the middle of the reading, without a word. On her return, I said: “Did my diary bore you, darling?”