Bachelor Hall should ever be clean. Maybe not. It certainly look less ladylike than ever in this deranged condition. Perhapsly Hon. Boss should be entirely enraged if I attemp to broom & dust this compartment he had took so much pains to masculify.

So I set by table, lit slight cigar, and read pugilist paper while upturning my feet. As thusly I reclined I did not hear something coming in front door.

“O!!!**??”

I peek upward. There stood Hon. Mrs. looking less peaceful than hornets.

“Hashimura Togo, what species of brutal debutchery have you been doing in my absentee?” she snarrel.

“I no do!” I say so. “Hon. Husband do!”

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64

“Do not add untruthfulness to your falsehood,” she snuggest snap-turtlefully.

“I have read in papers about the distrustworthiness of Japanese servant-girls. But now I know. O!!! I leave my poordear Husband for you take care of. And thusly you neglect him. How he must suffer!”

She cover her hands with her face.

“I swear it, Mrs. High Boss, your Hon. Husband—”

“Do not swear before ladies,” she snib. “Now depart away while I faint.”

I do so feeling entirely decapitated.

Hoping you are the same,

 Yours truly, Hashimura Togo. 

Yours truly,

Hashimura Togo

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