"But you bought it for five hundred and fifty pounds just before the
War," I said when I had recovered.
"Ah, before the War," chuckled the philanthropist.
"I don't think I can afford fifteen hundred pounds."
The benevolent one looked disappointed in me. "Dear me," he said,
"and I wanted so much to sell it to you. Well, I shall have to give
you notice to quit in June. This house must be sold."
"But I can't get another house."
"You can have this house. But surely you have some friend who will
advance you fifteen hundred pounds?"
"You don't know my friends. It would be very awkward to be turned
into the street."
"You should have a house of your own and be independent. Every man
should own his home. Now can't you think of some friend who could
assist you?"
"Could you lend me fifteen hundred pounds for a rather speculative
investment?" I inquired.
"Since my kindly consideration for a tenant is treated with mockery I
give you written notice to leave. A 'For Sale' board will be placed
in your garden. A clause in the lease authorises me to do that. I wish
you good morning."
Well, I am to be evicted, and, as I'm not an Irishman, no one will
care. I shall not lie in wait with a shot-gun for my landlord. But
there is no clause in the lease forbidding me from putting up my sale
announcement beside the landlord's. It will run:--
_FOR SALE_
THIS UNDESIRABLE PROPERTY
COST £550 IN 1913.
Never been repaired since.
Damp guaranteed to come through every wall.
Mice can run under the doors but there is
not sufficient space for cats to follow them.
The Kitchen Range is unusable.
All hope of baths abandon ye who enter here.
One half of the windows won't
open--the others won't shut.
All chimneys smoke in all winds.
A unique chance for the War-rich.
* * * * *