through, with an overwhelming passion for
making puddings and darning socks, I hear. Alice
says she believes Mrs. Cyril knows every dish
and spoon by its Christian name, and that there's
never so much as a spool of thread out of order
in the house.''

``But how does Cyril stand it--the trials and
tribulations of domestic life? Bertram used to
declare that the whole Strata was aquiver with
fear when Cyril was composing, and I remember
him as a perfect bear if anybody so much as
whispered when he was in one of his moods. I
never forgot the night Bertram and I were up in
William's room trying to sing `When Johnnie
comes marching home,' to the accompaniment
of a banjo in Bertram's hands, and a guitar in
mine. Gorry! it was Hugh that went marching
home that night.''

``Oh, well, from reports I reckon Mrs. Cyril
doesn't play either a banjo or a guitar,'' smiled
Arkwright. ``Alice says she wears rubber heels
on her shoes, and has put hushers on all the chair-
legs, and felt-mats between all the plates and
saucers. Anyhow, Cyril is building a new house,
and he looks as if he were in a pretty healthy
condition, as you'll see to-morrow night.''

``Humph! I wish he'd make his music healthy,