know."

"No, it isn't that," she said. "The poor fellows are so understaffed and
overworked that they can't find time. My idea is to raise a fund so
that it can be done for them. My heart aches. Only this morning I saw a
barber's with ASH AND RUSH UP on it; and a confectioner's"--she referred
to her notebook--"with ICE REAMS, and an undertaker's with PINKING ONE
ERE."

"What is pinking?" I asked. "I always wanted to know."

"And," she continued, again consulting her book, "a tobacconist's with
BEST OLDEN VIRGIN , and a dentist's with PA LESS EXTRACTION. Something
really must be done. Don't you agree?"

I murmured that there were other abuses that were possibly more in need
of immediate redress, but Mrs. Delta again turned to her book.

"And a dairyman with FAMILIES UP LIE , and a stationer's with LUE LACK
INK. Isn't it distressing?--and so bad for growing children to see so
much slovenliness. And what can foreigners think of us? The Americans,
for instance, who are always so spick and span, and--"

The means of rescue came to me in the shape, of a vast monster on
wheels, bright with yellow and scarlet, thundering over the road.
"That's my bus," I said, and ran.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Father (to troublesome small boy_). "NOW LOOK HERE,