"Keep quiet," I said, flushing with anticipation. "I'm getting it ...
your last remark has put me on the track.... Silence.... Ah ... it's
_DEVONSHIRE CREAM!_ There--I've got it at last. I feel an overwhelming
desire for Devonshire cream."

"The sort that begins with a 'W.'"

"Well, it's got a 'V' in it, anyhow."

"And it isn't Devonshire cream at all. It's really Cornish cream--at
least Mary Penruddock says it is."

"Cornish or Devonshire, that's what I must have, if Lord RHONDDA'S
rules allow it."

"All right, I'll get you a pot or two if I can. But are you sure you
won't forget it again?"

"If I do," I said, "I can always remember it by the W.'"

R.C.L.

* * * * *

THE CHANGE CURE.

["The only way to make domestic service popular is for
a duchess to become a tweeny-maid."--_Evening Paper_.]