(“

    Not

   ” I should think, but I don't say so.)

   “Then,” he goes on. “You make the purchase, and hand over the title-deeds. Pay them a rent and a per-centage every year until the whole is paid off, when it becomes yours.”

   “In fact,” I put it, bluffly, to him, “I can build a house

   without having any money; I mean, by getting the money from the Building Society?”

   “Precisely. Any day.”

   I hesitate. It really is—if Cazell is correct—much better than hiring a house . . . or taking lodgings. And what does Cazell think the cost will be?

   “Well,” says he, “put it at £2,000, the outside.” I reflect that the inside, too, will be a considerable expense. “A good, strong house. Why, I knew a fellow build one for £1,500. Just what you want. Then, there's the ground—say at another two. And there you are. Four thousand altogether. Well, you'd pay 'em a mere rent for that, and so much tacked on, which would, each time, reduce the principal. And when you pay your last year of rent and interest, it ought to have come down to a five-pound note.”

   This is admirable. What a glorious society is the Building Society . . .

    if

   Cazell is only right.

   I will draw out plans at once.

   Will he come down with me, somewhere, and choose the land?

   “Certainly. Why not try Kent?” he asks. I have no objection to Kent. “But,” I suggest, “wouldn't it be better, first, to settle the sort of thing wanted?”

    Happy Thought.

   —Put it down on paper.

   A billiard-room,

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