DEAR MR. PETHERTON,--I am beginning my letter, as you see, in
the formal way, but from your opening move I foresee that a
more affectionate tone will supervene before we are through
with the matter in hand. This will be in accordance with
the immemorial custom that has prevailed in the delightful
intercourse between us on various subjects. Now, as to the
Concert. My suggestion, mutely expressed through a little
forgetfulness on my part, missed fire. If this isn't expressed
clearly I mean I hoped you would understand that I sent the
tickets because I hoped that you would buy them. Or, to put
the matter very plainly, I sent you two tickets. Have you
5_s._ that's doing nothing? If so, send it me for goodness'
sake, and keep the tickets, which I'm sending back in this.
If the 5_s._ is busy with the War Loan, don't disturb it of
course, but send me the tickets back, or sell them to somebody
else. I think that's all clear, so now we'll get on to the
next point. I don't sing--outside a church. I fancy
it's Wright, the blacksmith, a fine upstanding bass with
full-throated movement, that you can hear. He leaves his
spreading chestnut-tree on Wednesdays and Fridays for
rehearsals in my drawing-room, and it's difficult to keep his
voice from straying over into your premises, even with the
windows shut. I'm sorry if he annoys you, but, anyway, as the
Concert takes place next Wednesday, he won't worry you much
longer. I hope you will come in your group. I can send you
more tickets if you need them.
Yours faithfully,
H. J. FORDYCE.
I hope your hens are fruit-bearing. Eggs are a terrible price just
now, aren't they?