"I knew it!" exclaimed the other. "My mother can hear every word. She goes
to the theatre too. Now your mother would have to go to the cinema if she
wished to be entertained."

"My mother," said the Archdeacon, "would not be interested in the cinema"
(he pronounced it ki-neema); "her mind is of a more serious turn."

"My mother is young enough to be interested in anything," said the other.
"And there is not one of her thirty-eight grandchildren of whose progress
she is not kept closely informed."

He leaned back with a gesture of triumph.

"How many grandchildren did you say?" the Archdeacon inquired. "I didn't
quite catch."

"Thirty-eight," the other man replied.

Across the cleric's ascetic features a happy smile slowly and conqueringly
spread. "My mother," he said, "has fifty-two grandchildren. And now," he
turned to me, "which of us would you say has won this entertaining
contest?"

"I should not like to decide," I said. "I am--fortunately perhaps for your
mothers--no Solomon. My verdict is that both of you are wonderfully lucky
men."

E.V.L.

* * * * *