know you promised ever so long ago.

Miss T. Of course. I'll tell you all about it to-morrow. (Gets into
'rickshaw.) O Emma!

Miss D. (With intense interest.) Yes, dear?

Miss T. (Piano.) It's quite true- - - about-the-egg.

Miss D. What egg?

Miss T. (Pianissimo prestissimo.) The egg without the salt.
(Porte.) Chalo ghar ko jaldi, jhampani! (Go home, jhampani.)

THE WORLD WITHOUT

Certain people of importance.

SCENE.-Smoking-room of the Degchi Club. Time, 10.30 P. M. of
a stuffy night in the Rains. Four men dispersed in picturesque
attitudes and easy-chairs. To these enter BLAYNE of the Irregular
Moguls, in evening dress.

BLAYNE. Phew! The Judge ought to be hanged in his own
store-godown. Hi, khitmatgarl Poora whiskey-peg, to take the taste
out of my mouth.

CURTISS. (Royal Artillery.) That's it, is it? What the deuce
made you dine at the Judge's? You know his bandobust.