"God help us," Alison murmured.

He went on, giggling. "It is related of the Ancient Egyptians that they
ever had a corpse among the guests at their feasts."

"Were their cooks so bad?" said Alison.

"To remind them that all men are mortal. Now you see why we keep Harry."

"I wonder if he looked as happy when he was alive," said Alison,
surveying his wooden face.

"_De mortuis nil nisi bonum_," Geoffrey laughed. "No jests about the
dead, Alison. But to tell you a secret, he never was alive. He doesn't
like it known."

Colonel Boyce, who had listened to the song and the first
coruscations of wit with the condescending smile of a connoisseur,
now exhibited some impatience. "Egad, Harry, why will you dress like
a parson out at elbows?"

"His customary suit of solemn black," said Geoffrey.

"He is in mourning for himself, of course," Alison laughed.

"I have two suits of clothes, ma'am," said Harry meekly. "This is
the better."

"Poor Harry!" Geoffrey granted him a look of protective affection. "I vow
we are too hard on him, Alison." And then in a lower voice for her