conjecturable that Carter may have said _puribus omnia pura_; but
if he did so, it was with so droll an accent that his audience
laughed again. At all events his reading was punctuated with
cheery applause, and at the conclusion the Scorpions renewed
their acquaintance with those historic affinities whiskey and
soda. Discussion was brisk.

The meditative Goblin then was called upon for his poems; and,
after becoming hesitation, unfolded a sheaf of verses. His rhymes
were always full of quaint and elvish humour which was very
endearing. His ballade with the refrain "_When Harry Baillie kept
the Tabard Inn_," was voted the best of the six he read.

But the event of the evening was to be the serial story, which
Forbes had been appointed to begin. A new round of refreshments
was distributed, and then the host took his place under the
reading lamp.

"This needs a word of explanation," he said. "Having the whole
vacation to work on this, naturally I did nothing until tea time
this afternoon. I didn't even have an idea in my head until
yesterday. About four o'clock yesterday afternoon I was strolling
down the Broad in desperation. You know when there is some
hateful task that has to be done, one will snatch at any pretext
for postponing it. I stopped in at Blackwell's to look for a book
I wanted. Up in one corner of the shop, lying on a row of books,
I found this."

Impressively he drew from his pocket a double sheet of notepaper
and held it up.