* * * * *
[Illustration: "BED, SIR? HERE IS A GENUINE JACOBEAN, FOR WHICH WE ARE
ASKING ONLY TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY GUINEAS."
"WELL, TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH I WASN'T WANTING TO _BUY_ ONE. BUT I CAN'T GET
A BED ANYWHERE IN LONDON, AND I WAS JUST WONDERING IF YOU COULD LET ME
SLEEP IN IT TO-NIGHT."]
* * * * *
DOMESTIC STRATEGY.
I will admit that it was I who gave Mrs. Brackett the idea. But to blame me
for the very unfortunate _denouement_ is ridiculous.
I met Mrs. Blackett in Sloane Street.
"I'm on my way to a registry-office," she said. "No, not that kind of
registry-office; I'm not about to commit bigamy. I mean the kind where
domestic assistants are sought, but mostly in vain. I suppose you don't
know of a cook, a kitchenmaid, a housemaid, a parlourmaid and a tweeny?"
I confessed that I did not. But I told her the story of some friends of
mine who had been in a similar position and had succeeded in reorganising
their establishment by an ingenious strategy.
"The wife went away to stay with friends in the country," I said, "and the
husband went to the registry-office, representing himself to be a bachelor,
a rather easy-going bachelor. It seems that such establishments are popular
with the few domestic servants still at large. After a short time he let it
be known that he was really married, but separated from his wife; and after
a further interval he called his household together and with tears in his
voice informed them that he and his wife had composed their differences and
that she was returning to him on the morrow.
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