heard my tale----"

"Eighty paper pounds," said Berry. "Can you beat it?"

"That'd only be about thirty-five before the War," said Miss Childe in a
shaking voice.

"Yes," said I. "Look at it that way. And what's thirty-five? A
bagatelle, brother, a bagatelle. Now, if we were in Russia----"

"Yes," said Berry grimly, "and if we were in Patagonia, I suppose I
should be up on the deal. You can cut that bit."

Miss Childe and Jill dissolved into peals of merriment.

"That's right," said Berry. "Deride the destitute. Mock at bereavement.
As for you," he added, turning to Jill, "your visit to the Zoo is
indefinitely postponed. Other children shall feel sick in the
monkey-house and be taken to smell the bears. But you, never." He turned
to Miss Childe and laid a hand on her arm. "Shut your eyes, my dear, and
repeat one of Alfred Austin's odes. This place is full of the ungodly."

* * * * *

My determination to carry the tallboy chest to London in the Rolls met
with stern opposition, but in the end I prevailed, and at six o'clock
that evening it was safely housed in Mayfair.

To do him justice, Berry's annoyance was considerably tempered by the
strange story which I unfolded during a belated tea.