For either my paper was twitched away from under my pen, or some one looked over my shoulder and pretended to read expressions of endearment which were not there, or some one got under the table and heaved it about tempestuously to the detriment of my handwriting, or some one drew skeleton figures of spider-legged bipeds on the margin of the paper.

Worse still, it was evident every word I wrote would be common property, which I did not desire.

I had therefore to abandon the attempt till later on; when, finding myself in Pridgin's study, I ventured to inquire if I might write there.
Pridgin was good enough to express admiration of my cheek, but said if I spread one newspaper over his carpet and another over his table-cloth to catch the blots, and didn't ask him how to spell any word of less than four letters, or borrow a stamp, I might.
All which I faithfully undertook to do, and sat down to my delicate task.

It took me a long time, considering the result, and I was by no means satisfied with the performance when it was done.
"Dear Crofter," I wrote; but that seemed too familiar, whereas "Dear Sir" from one schoolfellow to another was too formal.

So I attempted my explanation in the "oblique oration":-- "Jones iv.