trinitrotoluene."

* * * * *

THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

I went into the morning-room with a worried frown upon my brow. Kathleen
was doing the accounts at the table.

"Kathleen," I said, "it's Veronica's birthday on Wednesday and--"

"What did you say seven eighths were?" said Kathleen. "I asked you last
week."

"I can't possibly carry complicated calculations in my head from week to
week," I said; "you should have made a note of it at the time. It's
Veronica's birthday on Wednesday, and what do you think she wants?"

But Kathleen was enthralled by the greengrocer's book. "Have we really had
eight cabbages this week?" she said. "We must, I suppose. Greengrocers are
generally honest; they live so near to nature. Well, now," she shut up her
books, "what were you saying, dear?"

I sighed, cleared my throat and began again. "It's Veronica's birthday on
Wednesday, and what do you think she wants? She wants," I said
dramatically, "a 'frush' from the bird-shop in the village. The ones that
hang in cages outside the door."

"Well," said Kathleen, "why not?"