performers enter on this - ha! ha! ha! - it's impossible to speak
gravely of it - on this preposterous and ridiculous business called
Life, every minute?'

'No, father!'

'No, not you, of course; you're a woman - almost,' said the Doctor.
'By-the-by,' and he looked into the pretty face, still close to
his, 'I suppose it's YOUR birth-day.'

'No! Do you really, father?' cried his pet daughter, pursing up
her red lips to be kissed.

'There! Take my love with it,' said the Doctor, imprinting his
upon them; 'and many happy returns of the - the idea! - of the day.
The notion of wishing happy returns in such a farce as this,' said
the Doctor to himself, 'is good! Ha! ha! ha!'

Doctor Jeddler was, as I have said, a great philosopher, and the
heart and mystery of his philosophy was, to look upon the world as
a gigantic practical joke; as something too absurd to be considered
seriously, by any rational man. His system of belief had been, in
the beginning, part and parcel of the battle-ground on which he
lived, as you shall presently understand.

'Well! But how did you get the music?' asked the Doctor.
'Poultry-stealers, of course! Where did the minstrels come from?'

'Alfred sent the music,' said his daughter Grace, adjusting a few
simple flowers in her sister's hair, with which, in her admiration