I knew you would.

Now we'll begin. _To Messrs. Morrow & Hope. Dear Sirs,--I hate_--no,
that's a little too strong, perhaps--_I much dislike_--that's
better--_I much dislike to bother you at a time when I know you must
be overworked in every direction_--you see the idea, don't you? What
we've got to do is to get on their soft side. It's no use bullyragging
them; understanding their difficulties is much better. You see that,
don't you? Of course; I knew you would. Now then. Where was I?
Oh yes--_overworked in every direction; but if, as you promised
yesterday, but unfortunately were unable_--I think that's good, don't
you? Much better than saying that they had broken their promise--_to
manage, you could spare a man to attend to our pipes without further
delay_--I think you might underline _without further delay_. Would
that be safe, I wonder? Yes, I think so--_I should be more than
grateful._ And now there's a problem. What I have been pondering is if
it would be wise to offer to pay an increased charge. I'd do anything
to get the pipes mended, but, on the other hand, it's not a sound
precedent. A state of society in which everyone bid against everyone
else for the first services of the plumber would be unbearable. Only
the rich would ever be plumbed, and very soon the plumbers would be
the millionaires. Perhaps we had better let the letter go as it is?
You think so and I think so. Very well then, just _Believe me, yours
faithfully_, and I'll sign it."

And now the Indignant and Confidential. Mr. Horace Bristowe is
dictative: "Ah, here you are, Miss Tappit. Now I've got trouble with
the plumbers, and I want to give the blighters--well, I can't say it
to you, but you know what I mean. There's my house dripping at every
pore, or rather pouring at every drip--I say, that's rather good; I