"So your son looks no higher than a Mastership of Foxhounds. Well, well, I
suppose that so long as there are such things as hounds he, as well as
another, may take on the job of Master.
"But I thoroughly approve of your desire that he should try for something
higher in life, especially for some official post; and what official post
is or can be superior to that of a Borough Surveyor? Can you not persuade
him that this great office is what one chooses to make it, and that, as an
autocrat, the M.F.H. is hardly to be compared to the B.S., for, whereas the
former can at the most scorch the few people foolish enough to remain
within ear-shot, the latter can with a breath damn a whole row of houses
and blast the careers of an army of builders with a word."
And so the propaganda proceeds.
If my efforts result in even one house being erected I shall, I think, have
earned my O.B.E., though I would rather have the house.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _My Lady Bountiful._ "SO YOUR MOTHER IS BETTER THROUGH
TAKING THE QUININE I GAVE HER?"
_Little Girl_ (_doing her best to carry out instructions_). "YES'M. BUT SHE
SAYS SHE'S WORSE OF THE COMPLAINT WOT YOU GIVES 'ER PORT WINE FOR."]
* * * * *