John arose with difficulty from the ashes and addressed himself
haughtily to Cecilia.

"I can understand that these two," he said, waving a black but
contemptuous hand at Margery and myself, "should scream with delight.
Their whole conception of humour is bound up with banana-skins and
orange-peel. But may I ask why _you_ should have hysterics because
your husband has fallen into the fireplace?"

"'You seemed to fall into it so naturally,'" I quoted in a shaky
voice.

"Darling," sobbed Cecilia, "I am trying--please--if only you would
take that piece of soot off your nose--" She dabbed her eyes and wept
helplessly.

John rubbed his nose quickly and walked to the door.

"If you want my opinion of dancing," he said bitterly, "I think it's a
low pagan habit."

"'Twinkle, twinkle, little star,'" sang Margery.

"Bah!" said John, and banged the door.

* * * * *

THE NEW UTOPIA.

[Suggested by Mr. J. H. THOMAS'S book, just out, with a Red Flag on the