and so glad about your toys. Perhaps if you gave one of the toys to
baby, then her knee----" But I feel sure that Margery would expect me to
do better than that.

In the particular case of this last letter but seven I wrote:

"DEAREST MARGERY,--Thank you for your sweet letter. I had a very busy
day at the office or I would have come to see you. P.T.O.

[Transcriber's note: Page break in original.]

--I hope to be down next week and then I will tell you all about my
work; but I have a lot more to do now, and so I must say good-bye. Your
loving UNCLE."

There is perhaps nothing in that which demands an immediate answer, but
with business-like promptitude Margery replied:

"MY DEAR UNCLE thank you for your letter I am glad you are coming next
week baby is quite well now are you p t o coming on Thursday next week
or not say yes if you are I am p t o sorry you are working so hard from
your loving MARGIE."

I said "Yes," and that I was her loving uncle. It seemed to be then too
late for a "P.T.O.," but I got one in and put on the back, "Love to
Baby." The answer came by return of post:

"MY DEAR UNCLE thank you for your letter come erly on p t o Thursday
come at half past nothing baby sends her love and so do p t o I my
roking horse has a sirrup broken isnt that a pity say yes or no good-bye
from your loving MARGIE."

Of course I thanked Baby for her love and gave my decision that it _was_
a pity about the rocking-horse. I did it in large capitals, which (as I
ought to have said before) is the means of communication between
Margery and her friends. For some reason or other I find printing
capitals to be more tiring than the ordinary method of writing.

"MY DEAR UNCLE," wrote Margery--

But we need not go into that. What I want to say is this: I love to get
letters, particularly these, but I hate writing them, particularly in
capitals. Years ago I used to answer Margery's letter for her. It is now
her turn to answer mine for me.

IX. THE TRUTH ABOUT HOME RAILS

Imagine us, if you can, sitting one on each side of the fire, I with my
feet on the mantelpiece, Margery curled up in the blue arm-chair, both
of us intent on the morning paper. To me, by good chance, has fallen the
sporting page; to Margery, the foreign, political and financial
intelligence of the day.

"What," said Margery, "does it mean when it says----" she stopped and
spelt it over to herself again.

I put down my piece of the paper and