t very hard, and we've simply got to economise."

"I daresay, I daresay," he said. "It may be so with some businesses. All
I know is my business hasn't gone off."

"Shipowner?" I said.

He gasped and shook his head emphatically. "Oh dear, no," he said.
"Nothing of that kind--wish I was. But you won't guess what I do, not if
I were to let you have a thousand guesses." His humility had vanished
and he looked almost triumphant.

"I give it up at once," I said. "What are you?"

"I," he said, "am the National Scape-Goat Association."

"The _what_?" I said.

He repeated his words. "I see you don't understand," he went on, "so
perhaps I'd better explain."

"Yes," I said, "much better."

"Well, it's this way," he said. "Have you ever written a book or been a
Candidate for a seat in the House of Commons?"

I said I hadn't.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "You'll understand what I mean. Take the
politician first. He issues an Address and makes speeches; in fact, does
things which make him known to thousands of people whom he doesn't know.
Do you follow me?"

I said I did.

"Well, then, somebody posts back his Election Address with 'This is
pitiful balderdash and most ungrammatical' written plainly at the bottom
of it. What would be your feelings if you got a thing like that?"

"I shouldn't like it," I said.

"Of course you wouldn't. You'd want to kick the writer, or at the very
least you'd want to write back to him and tell him what you thought of
him. But you can't do it, because of course he hasn't signed his name or
given any hint of his address. It's the same way with anonymous letters
of abuse. You can't answer them. So you 're done. You feel as if you'd
tried to walk up a step where there wasn't a step, and your temper
suffers. That's where the Association comes in. All you've got to do is
to write to us, enclosing fee. For half-a-guinea we send down to any
address in England one of our experts from the Assault-and-Battery
Department, and you're entitled to kick him once--we guarantee him
boot-proof, so you can kick as hard as you like. Or, if you prefer
writing to kicking, you can write to me as if I'd written the anonymous
letter or article or whatever it may be, and you can abuse me to your
heart's content for half-a-crown. For three shillings you can call me a
pro-German. Anyhow, the result is that your temper recovers and you feel
perfectly satisfied. It's well worth the money, isn't it? I'm thinking