there did I find a chance for eumoiriety. The Wymington Hospital applied
for their annual donation.

"You generally give a tenner," said Dale.

"This time I'll give them a couple of hundred," said I.

Dale earmarked the amount wonderingly; but when I ordered him to send
five pounds apiece to the authors of various begging letters he argued
vehemently and quoted the Charity Organisation Society.

"They're frauds, all of them," he maintained.

"They're poor necessitous devils, at any rate," said I, "and they want
the money more than I do."

This was a truth whose significance Dale was far from realising. Of
what value, indeed, is money to me? There is none to whom I can usefully
bequeath my little fortune, my sisters having each married rich men. I
shall not need even Charon's obolus when I am dead, for we have ceased
to believe in him--which is a pity, as the trip across the Styx must
have been picturesque. Why, then, should I not deal myself a happy lot
and portion by squandering my money benevolently during my lifetime?

It behooves me, however, to walk warily in this as in other matters, for
if my actions too closely resemble those of a lunatic at large, trustees
may be appointed to administer my affairs, which would frustrate my
plans entirely.

When my part in the morning's work was over, I informed my secretary