He thinks it was Margaret Henrietta, but is not at all sure.

Besides, what on earth has his mother got to do with this registered letter that he wants to send to his partner in New York?
"When did it die ?" asks the official.
"When did what die?
Mother ?" "No, no, the child." "What child ?" The indignation of the official is almost picturesque.
"All I want to do," explains your friend, "is to register a letter." "A what ?" "This letter, I want--" The window is slammed in his face.

When, ten minutes later he does reach the right wicket--the bureau for the registration of letters, and not the bureau for the registration of infantile deaths--it is pointed out to him that the letter either is sealed or that it is not sealed.
I have never been able yet to solve this problem.

If your letter is sealed, it then appears that it ought not to have been sealed.
If, on the other hand, you have omitted to seal it, that is your fault.
In any case, the letter cannot go as it is.

The continental official brings up the public on the principle of the nurse who sent the eldest girl to see what Tommy was doing and tell him he mustn't.