down at all it is in carpet slippers and dressing gown. His mental
vision of his meeting is that of a huge gathering of keen people
with Indo-Germanic faces, hanging upon every word.

Then comes the fated night. There are seventeen people present. The
lecturer refuses to count them. He refers to them afterwards as
"about a hundred." To this group he reads his paper on the
Indo-Germanic Factor. It takes him two hours. When he is over the
chairman invites discussion. There is no discussion. The audience is
willing to let the Indo-Germanic factors go unchallenged. Then the
chairman makes this speech. He says:

"I am very sorry indeed that we should have had such a very poor
'turn out' to-night. I am sure that the members who were not here
have missed a real treat in the delightful paper that we have
listened to. I want to assure the lecturer that if he comes to the
Owl's Club again we can guarantee him next time a capacity audience.
And will any members, please, who haven't paid their dollar this
winter, pay it either to me or to Mr. Sibley as they pass out."

I have heard this speech (in the years when I have had to listen to
it) so many times that I know it by heart. I have made the
acquaintance of the Owl's Club under so many names that I recognise
it at once. I am aware that its members refuse to turn out in cold
weather; that they do not turn out in wet weather; that when the
weather is really fine, it is impossible to get them together; that
the slightest counter-attraction,--a hockey match, a sacred
concert,--goes to their heads at once.

There was a time when I was the newly appointed occupant of a