some reason or other she never wrote back. To save her face I had to
answer the letters myself--a tedious business. Still, I must admit
that the warmth and geniality of the replies gave me a certain
standing with my friends, who had not looked for me to be so
popular. After some months, however, pride stepped in. One cannot
pour out letter after letter to a lady without any acknowledgment
save from oneself. And when even my own acknowledgments began to
lose their first warmth--when, for instance, I answered four pages
about my new pianola with the curt reminder that I was learning to
walk and couldn't be bothered with music, why, then at last I saw
that a correspondence so one-sided would have to come to an end. I
wrote a farewell letter and replied to it with tears....

But, bless you, that was nearly five years ago. Each morning now,
among the usual pile of notes on my plate from duchesses,
publishers, money-lenders, actor-managers and what-not, I find,
likely enough, an envelope in Margery's own handwriting. Not only is
my address printed upon it legibly, but there are also such extra
directions to the postman as "England" and "Important," for its more
speedy arrival. And inside--well, I give you the last but seven.

"MY DEAR UNCLE I thot you wher coming to see me to night but you
didn't why didn't you baby has p t o hurt her knee isnt that a pity
I have some new toys isnt that jolly we didn't have our five minutes
so will you krite to me and tell me all about p t o your work from
your loving little MARGIE."

I always think that footnotes to a letter are a mistake, but there
are one or two things I should like to explain.