unflaggingly through the thickest soup, and smooths his hair
dubiously as though he thought it might hit back. The
thought-reading was rather a success; he announced that the
hostess was thinking about poetry, and she admitted that her
mind was dwelling on one of Austin's odes. Which was near
enough. I fancy she had been really wondering whether a
scrag-end of mutton and some cold plum-pudding would do for
the kitchen dinner next day. As a crowning dissipation, they
all sat down to play progressive halma, with milk-chocolate
for prizes. I've been carefully brought up, and I don't like
to play games of skill for milk-chocolate, so I invented a
headache and retired from the scene. I had been preceded a
few minutes earlier by Miss Langshan-Smith, a rather
formidable lady, who always got up at some uncomfortable hour
in the morning, and gave you the impression that she had been
in communication with most of the European Governments before
breakfast. There was a paper pinned on her door with a
signed request that she might be called particularly early on
the morrow. Such an opportunity does not come twice in a
lifetime. I covered up everything except the signature with
another notice, to the effect that before these words should
meet the eye she would have ended a misspent life, was sorry
for the trouble she was giving, and would like a military
funeral. A few minutes later I violently exploded an air-
filled paper bag on the landing, and gave a stage moan that
could have been heard in the cellars. Then I pursued my
original intention and went to bed. The noise those people
made in forcing open the good lady's door was positively
indecorous; she resisted gallantly, but I believe they
searched her for bullets for about a quarter of an hour, as