ould like to know more about this
attractive little artist.

* * * * *

SIX-AND-A-PENNY-HALFPENNY.

"This," I said, "is perfectly monstrous. It is an outrage. It--"

"What have they done to you now?" said Francesca. "Have they forbidden
you to have your boots made of leather, or to go on wearing your shiny
old blue serge suit, or have they failed in some way to recognise your
merits as a Volunteer? Quick, tell me so that I may comfort you."

"Listen to this," I said.

"I should be better able to listen and you would certainly be better
able to read the letter if you didn't brandish it in my face."

"When you've heard it," I said, "you'll understand why I brandish it.
Listen:--

"'Sir,--I understand that on the 15th instant you travelled from Star
Bond to our London terminus without your season-ticket, and declined
to pay the ordinary fare. One of the conditions which you signed
stipulates that in the event of your inability to produce your
season-ticket the ordinary fare shall be paid, and as the Railway
Executive now controlling the railways on behalf of the Government
is strict in enforcing the observance of this condition, I have no
alternative but to request you to kindly remit me the sum of 6s.
1-1/2d. in respect of the journey in question.

I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,

H.W. HUTCHINSON.'

"This," I said, as I finished reading the letter, "comes from the
Great North-Southern Railway, and is addressed to _me_. What do you
think of it?"

"The miserable man," said Francesca, "has split an infinitive, but he
probably did it under the orders of the Railway Executive."

"I don't mind," I said, "about his treatment of infinitives. He may
split them all to smithereens if he likes. It's the monstrous nature
of his demand that vexes me."

"What can you expect of a Railway Company?" said Francesca. "Surely
you didn't suppose a company would display any of the finer feelings?"

"Francesca," I said, "this is a serious matter. If you are not going
to sympathise with me, say so at once, and I shall know what to do."

"Well, what will you do?"

"I shall plough my lonely furrow--I mean, I shall write my lonely
letter all by myself, and you shan't help me to make up any of the
stingers that I'm going to put into it."

"Oh, my dear," she said, "what is the use of writing stingers to a
railway? You might as well smack the engine because the guard trod
on your foot."

"Well,