It added that if we were prepared to render an ample written apology
and to pay 50 pounds compensation, they would advise their client,
Miss Matilda Hemmings, to allow the matter to drop; otherwise criminal
proceedings would at once be commenced against us.

We took the letter to our own solicitors and explained the
circumstances to them. They said it seemed to be a very sad case, but
advised us to pay the 50 pounds, and we borrowed the money and did so.

Since then we have lost faith, somehow, in the British drama as a
guide to the conduct of life.



THE CHILD.

It is nice and quiet and it talks prettily.

We have come across real infants now and then in the course of visits
to married friends; they have been brought to us from outlying parts
of the house and introduced to us for our edification; and we have
found them gritty and sticky. Their boots have usually been muddy,
and they have wiped them up against our new trousers. And their hair
has suggested the idea that they have been standing on their heads in
the dust-bin.

And they have talked to us--but not prettily, not at all--rather rude
we should call it.

But the stage child is very different. It is clean and tidy. You can