The maid of yours in question is the one who goes out on Wednesday evenings. As that is also George's evening out, perhaps you could arrange to let this particular maid go out on another evening instead.

"What confounded sauce!" I said, and replied formally as follows:—

DEAR MR. PETHERTON,—It must, I am sure, be most alarming to you to find that servants of ours are hobnobbing and perhaps discussing our affairs. Unfortunately to make the alteration you suggest would throw the whole of our domestic staff out. I know the maid to whom you refer; she is our parlour-maid, and you are right in describing her as "this particular maid." She is most particular. It is true that men are hard to obtain for domestic employment, even ineligibles (and I am sure yours is that), but maids are, if anything, more difficult to find. My wife had no end of trouble in procuring this parlour-maid, and she is a treasure whom we do not wish to lose.

I have been aware for some time that she is engaged in the pleasurable occupation of what is known as keeping company with your factotum, but thought it wise not to interfere.

It is still in the air, as one might say, that you are engaged in experimental chemical work for the Government, and I should have thought, and hoped, that this would occupy your mind to the exclusion of such trivial affairs as servants' love-making.

Petherton quickly countered with:—

SIR—I am sorry that I should have appealed to you in vain. It is not a pleasure to write to you, and it is positively distasteful to have to read your absurd letters in reply. I passed George in the village this evening with his arm round your parlour-maid's waist. I was absolutely disgusted, and must emphatically protest against such familiarity even among the minor members of our households.

Joyously I rushed to respond:—

DEAR PETHERTON,—Your letters, on the contrary, are a positive delight to me. One of the reasons why I should not like to interfere is the feeling that it might put an end to our correspondence.

Personally I cannot visualize the spectacle of similar familiarity between any of the major members of our respective households.

I myself passed your man this evening as I was on my way to the Vicarage, and at the moment he was in mild dalliance with our housemaid. I say mild because they were only arm-in-arm. On my return about an hour later I passed George again, and it is true that this time he was with our parlour-maid, and had his arm round her waist as you describe.

There is no doubt that the young man has a penchant for my staff, but so far no Government secrets have reached my ears, and no details of your personal doings, past, present or future.

"Carry on" is the motto of the day, so why not let well alone? Were you never a young man?