come! Now let's see how you can fare along a bit all by yourself."

Austin was thankful for the support of his crutch, with the aid of
which he managed to stagger about for a few minutes at quite a
respectable speed. It reminded him almost of the far-off days when he
was learning to ride his bicycle. At last he thought he would like to
rest a bit, and was much surprised when, on flinging himself down
upon a garden seat, his leg flew up in the air.

"Lively sort o' limb, this new leg o' yours, Sir," commented Lubin, as
he bent it into a more decorous position. "You'll have to take care it
don't carry you off with it one o' these fine days. Seems to me it
wants taming, and learning how to behave itself in company. I heard
tell of a cork leg once upon a time as was that nimble it started off
running on its own account, and no earthly power could stop it.
Wouldn't have mattered so much if it'd had nobody but itself to
consider, but unluckily the gentleman it belonged to happened to be
screwed on to the top end of it, and of course he had to follow. They
do say as how he's following it still--poor beggar! Must be worn to a
shadow by this time, I should think. But p'raps it ain't true after
all. There are folks as'll say anything."

"I expect it's true enough," replied Austin cheerfully. "If you want a
thing to be true, all you've got to do is to believe it--believe it as
hard as you can. That makes it true, you see. At least, that's what
the new psychology teaches. Thought creates things, you
understand--though how it works I confess I can't explain. But never
mind. Oh, dear, how drunk I am!"

"Drunk, Sir? No, no, only a bit giddy," said Lubin, as he stood