initial commit of ebook 1870HEADmain

11 files changed, 12135 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/1870-0.txt b/1870-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f8ec041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1870-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2977 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Reginald in Russia, by Saki
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Reginald in Russia
+       and Other Sketches
+
+
+Author: Saki
+
+
+
+Release Date: September 12, 2010  [eBook #1870]
+First Posted: January, 8, 1999
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REGINALD IN RUSSIA***
+
+
+This etext was prepared from the 1910 Methuen and Co. edition by Jane
+Duff; proofed by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf
+
+
+
+
+BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+REGINALD
+
+
+    “He is a delightful person.  One would not like a rich and
+    octogenarian uncle to suppose that Reginald was one’s ideal of
+    conduct and conversion.  Yet there is sometimes reason in his
+    paradoxical frivolities, and justice in his practical
+    performances.”—_Morning Post_.
+
+    “The book, by reason of its sustained brilliance, may be likened to a
+    Brock’s Benefit at the Crystal Palace.”—_Athenæum_.
+
+    “Mr. H. H. Munro (‘Saki’) has one of the lightest and most
+    entertaining touches of the humorists of the day . . .  The book is
+    admirable comedy and free from malice and bad taste.”—_Queen_.
+
+    “We feel sure that those who have already made Reginald’s
+    acquaintance will be glad to renew it, and that those who know him
+    not will not regret it if they add him to the list of their
+    fictitious (albeit very real) acquaintances, not to say
+    friends.”—_Westminster Gazette_.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               REGINALD IN
+                                  RUSSIA
+
+
+                            AND OTHER SKETCHES
+
+                                    BY
+                                   SAKI
+                              (H. H. MUNRO)
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                              METHUEN & CO.
+                           36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
+                                  LONDON
+
+                        _First Published in 1910_.
+
+                                    TO
+                                 M. V. P.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                         PAGE
+REGINALD IN RUSSIA                          1
+THE RETICENCE OF LADY ANNE                  7
+THE LOST SANJAK                            13
+THE SEX THAT DOESN’T SHOP                  25
+THE BLOOD-FEUD OF TOAD-WATER               31
+A YOUNG TURKISH CATASTROPHE                38
+JUDKIN OF THE PARCELS                      42
+GABRIEL-ERNEST                             47
+THE SAINT AND THE GOBLIN                   60
+THE SOUL OF LAPLOSHKA                      66
+THE BAG                                    75
+THE STRATEGIST                             85
+CROSS CURRENTS                             94
+THE BAKER’S DOZEN (A PLAYLET)             106
+THE MOUSE                                 116
+
+   “_The Baker’s Dozen_” _originally appeared in_ “_The Journal of the
+Leinster Regiment_.”  _The other sketches have appeared from time to time
+in the_ “_Westminster Gazette_.”  _To the Editors of these publications I
+  am indebted for courteous permission to reproduce the stories in their
+                              present form_.
+
+
+
+
+REGINALD IN RUSSIA
+
+
+Reginald sat in a corner of the Princess’s salon and tried to forgive the
+furniture, which started out with an obvious intention of being Louis
+Quinze, but relapsed at frequent intervals into Wilhelm II.
+
+He classified the Princess with that distinct type of woman that looks as
+if it habitually went out to feed hens in the rain.
+
+Her name was Olga; she kept what she hoped and believed to be a
+fox-terrier, and professed what she thought were Socialist opinions.  It
+is not necessary to be called Olga if you are a Russian Princess; in
+fact, Reginald knew quite a number who were called Vera; but the
+fox-terrier and the Socialism are essential.
+
+“The Countess Lomshen keeps a bull-dog,” said the Princess suddenly.  “In
+England is it more chic to have a bull-dog than a fox-terrier?”
+
+Reginald threw his mind back over the canine fashions of the last ten
+years and gave an evasive answer.
+
+“Do you think her handsome, the Countess Lomshen?” asked the Princess.
+
+Reginald thought the Countess’s complexion suggested an exclusive diet of
+macaroons and pale sherry.  He said so.
+
+“But that cannot be possible,” said the Princess triumphantly; “I’ve seen
+her eating fish-soup at Donon’s.”
+
+The Princess always defended a friend’s complexion if it was really bad.
+With her, as with a great many of her sex, charity began at homeliness
+and did not generally progress much farther.
+
+Reginald withdrew his macaroon and sherry theory, and became interested
+in a case of miniatures.
+
+“That?” said the Princess; “that is the old Princess Lorikoff.  She lived
+in Millionaya Street, near the Winter Palace, and was one of the Court
+ladies of the old Russian school.  Her knowledge of people and events was
+extremely limited; but she used to patronise every one who came in
+contact with her.  There was a story that when she died and left the
+Millionaya for Heaven she addressed St. Peter in her formal staccato
+French: ‘Je suis la Princesse Lor-i-koff.  Il me donne grand plaisir à
+faire votre connaissance.  Je vous en prie me présenter au Bon Dieu.’
+St. Peter made the desired introduction, and the Princess addressed le
+Bon Dieu: ‘Je suis la Princesse Lor-i-koff.  Il me donne grand plaisir à
+faire votre connaissance.  On a souvent parlé de vous à l’église de la
+rue Million.’”
+
+“Only the old and the clergy of Established churches know how to be
+flippant gracefully,” commented Reginald; “which reminds me that in the
+Anglican Church in a certain foreign capital, which shall be nameless, I
+was present the other day when one of the junior chaplains was preaching
+in aid of distressed somethings or other, and he brought a really
+eloquent passage to a close with the remark, ‘The tears of the afflicted,
+to what shall I liken them—to diamonds?’  The other junior chaplain, who
+had been dozing out of professional jealousy, awoke with a start and
+asked hurriedly, ‘Shall I play to diamonds, partner?’  It didn’t improve
+matters when the senior chaplain remarked dreamily but with painful
+distinctness, ‘Double diamonds.’  Every one looked at the preacher, half
+expecting him to redouble, but he contented himself with scoring what
+points he could under the circumstances.”
+
+“You English are always so frivolous,” said the Princess.  “In Russia we
+have too many troubles to permit of our being light-hearted.”
+
+Reginald gave a delicate shiver, such as an Italian greyhound might give
+in contemplating the approach of an ice age of which he personally
+disapproved, and resigned himself to the inevitable political discussion.
+
+“Nothing that you hear about us in England is true,” was the Princess’s
+hopeful beginning.
+
+“I always refused to learn Russian geography at school,” observed
+Reginald; “I was certain some of the names must be wrong.”
+
+“Everything is wrong with our system of government,” continued the
+Princess placidly.  “The Bureaucrats think only of their pockets, and the
+people are exploited and plundered in every direction, and everything is
+mismanaged.”
+
+“With us,” said Reginald, “a Cabinet usually gets the credit of being
+depraved and worthless beyond the bounds of human conception by the time
+it has been in office about four years.”
+
+“But if it is a bad Government you can turn it out at the elections,”
+argued the Princess.
+
+“As far as I remember, we generally do,” said Reginald.
+
+“But here it is dreadful, every one goes to such extremes.  In England
+you never go to extremes.”
+
+“We go to the Albert Hall,” explained Reginald.
+
+“There is always a see-saw with us between repression and violence,”
+continued the Princess; “and the pity of it is the people are really not
+in the least inclined to be anything but peaceable.  Nowhere will you
+find people more good-natured, or family circles where there is more
+affection.”
+
+“There I agree with you,” said Reginald.  “I know a boy who lives
+somewhere on the French Quay who is a case in point.  His hair curls
+naturally, especially on Sundays, and he plays bridge well, even for a
+Russian, which is saying much.  I don’t think he has any other
+accomplishments, but his family affection is really of a very high order.
+When his maternal grandmother died he didn’t go as far as to give up
+bridge altogether, but he declared on nothing but black suits for the
+next three months.  That, I think, was really beautiful.”
+
+The Princess was not impressed.
+
+“I think you must be very self-indulgent and live only for amusement,”
+she said, “a life of pleasure-seeking and card-playing and dissipation
+brings only dissatisfaction.  You will find that out some day.”
+
+“Oh, I know it turns out that way sometimes,” assented Reginald.
+“Forbidden fizz is often the sweetest.”
+
+But the remark was wasted on the Princess, who preferred champagne that
+had at least a suggestion of dissolved barley-sugar.
+
+“I hope you will come and see me again,” she said, in a tone that
+prevented the hope from becoming too infectious; adding as a happy
+afterthought, “you must come to stay with us in the country.”
+
+Her particular part of the country was a few hundred versts the other
+side of Tamboff, with some fifteen miles of agrarian disturbance between
+her and the nearest neighbour.  Reginald felt that there is some privacy
+which should be sacred from intrusion.
+
+
+
+
+THE RETICENCE OF LADY ANNE
+
+
+Egbert came into the large, dimly lit drawing-room with the air of a man
+who is not certain whether he is entering a dovecote or a bomb factory,
+and is prepared for either eventuality.  The little domestic quarrel over
+the luncheon-table had not been fought to a definite finish, and the
+question was how far Lady Anne was in a mood to renew or forgo
+hostilities.  Her pose in the arm-chair by the tea-table was rather
+elaborately rigid; in the gloom of a December afternoon Egbert’s
+pince-nez did not materially help him to discern the expression of her
+face.
+
+By way of breaking whatever ice might be floating on the surface he made
+a remark about a dim religious light.  He or Lady Anne were accustomed to
+make that remark between 4.30 and 6 on winter and late autumn evenings;
+it was a part of their married life.  There was no recognised rejoinder
+to it, and Lady Anne made none.
+
+Don Tarquinio lay astretch on the Persian rug, basking in the firelight
+with superb indifference to the possible ill-humour of Lady Anne.  His
+pedigree was as flawlessly Persian as the rug, and his ruff was coming
+into the glory of its second winter.  The page-boy, who had Renaissance
+tendencies, had christened him Don Tarquinio.  Left to themselves, Egbert
+and Lady Anne would unfailingly have called him Fluff, but they were not
+obstinate.
+
+Egbert poured himself out some tea.  As the silence gave no sign of
+breaking on Lady Anne’s initiative, he braced himself for another Yermak
+effort.
+
+“My remark at lunch had a purely academic application,” he announced;
+“you seem to put an unnecessarily personal significance into it.”
+
+Lady Anne maintained her defensive barrier of silence.  The bullfinch
+lazily filled in the interval with an air from _Iphigénie en Tauride_.
+Egbert recognised it immediately, because it was the only air the
+bullfinch whistled, and he had come to them with the reputation for
+whistling it.  Both Egbert and Lady Anne would have preferred something
+from _The Yeomen of the Guard_, which was their favourite opera.  In
+matters artistic they had a similarity of taste.  They leaned towards the
+honest and explicit in art, a picture, for instance, that told its own
+story, with generous assistance from its title.  A riderless warhorse
+with harness in obvious disarray, staggering into a courtyard full of
+pale swooning women, and marginally noted “Bad News”, suggested to their
+minds a distinct interpretation of some military catastrophe.  They could
+see what it was meant to convey, and explain it to friends of duller
+intelligence.
+
+The silence continued.  As a rule Lady Anne’s displeasure became
+articulate and markedly voluble after four minutes of introductory
+muteness.  Egbert seized the milk-jug and poured some of its contents
+into Don Tarquinio’s saucer; as the saucer was already full to the brim
+an unsightly overflow was the result.  Don Tarquinio looked on with a
+surprised interest that evanesced into elaborate unconsciousness when he
+was appealed to by Egbert to come and drink up some of the spilt matter.
+Don Tarquinio was prepared to play many rôles in life, but a vacuum
+carpet-cleaner was not one of them.
+
+“Don’t you think we’re being rather foolish?” said Egbert cheerfully.
+
+If Lady Anne thought so she didn’t say so.
+
+“I dare say the fault has been partly on my side,” continued Egbert, with
+evaporating cheerfulness.  “After all, I’m only human, you know.  You
+seem to forget that I’m only human.”
+
+He insisted on the point, as if there had been unfounded suggestions that
+he was built on Satyr lines, with goat continuations where the human left
+off.
+
+The bullfinch recommenced its air from _Iphigénie en Tauride_.  Egbert
+began to feel depressed.  Lady Anne was not drinking her tea.  Perhaps
+she was feeling unwell.  But when Lady Anne felt unwell she was not wont
+to be reticent on the subject.  “No one knows what I suffer from
+indigestion” was one of her favourite statements; but the lack of
+knowledge can only have been caused by defective listening; the amount of
+information available on the subject would have supplied material for a
+monograph.
+
+Evidently Lady Anne was not feeling unwell.
+
+Egbert began to think he was being unreasonably dealt with; naturally he
+began to make concessions.
+
+“I dare say,” he observed, taking as central a position on the hearth-rug
+as Don Tarquinio could be persuaded to concede him, “I may have been to
+blame.  I am willing, if I can thereby restore things to a happier
+standpoint, to undertake to lead a better life.”
+
+He wondered vaguely how it would be possible.  Temptations came to him,
+in middle age, tentatively and without insistence, like a neglected
+butcher-boy who asks for a Christmas box in February for no more hopeful
+reason that than he didn’t get one in December.  He had no more idea of
+succumbing to them than he had of purchasing the fish-knives and fur boas
+that ladies are impelled to sacrifice through the medium of advertisement
+columns during twelve months of the year.  Still, there was something
+impressive in this unasked-for renunciation of possibly latent
+enormities.
+
+Lady Anne showed no sign of being impressed.
+
+Egbert looked at her nervously through his glasses.  To get the worst of
+an argument with her was no new experience.  To get the worst of a
+monologue was a humiliating novelty.
+
+“I shall go and dress for diner,” he announced in a voice into which he
+intended some shade of sternness to creep.
+
+At the door a final access of weakness impelled him to make a further
+appeal.
+
+“Aren’t we being very silly?”
+
+“A fool” was Don Tarquinio’s mental comment as the door closed on
+Egbert’s retreat.  Then he lifted his velvet forepaws in the air and
+leapt lightly on to a bookshelf immediately under the bullfinch’s cage.
+It was the first time he had seemed to notice the bird’s existence, but
+he was carrying out a long-formed theory of action with the precision of
+mature deliberation.  The bullfinch, who had fancied himself something of
+a despot, depressed himself of a sudden into a third of his normal
+displacement; then he fell to a helpless wing-beating and shrill
+cheeping.  He had cost twenty-seven shillings without the cage, but Lady
+Anne made no sign of interfering.  She had been dead for two hours.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOST SANJAK
+
+
+The prison Chaplain entered the condemned’s cell for the last time, to
+give such consolation as he might.
+
+“The only consolation I crave for,” said the condemned, “is to tell my
+story in its entirety to some one who will at least give it a respectful
+hearing.”
+
+“We must not be too long over it,” said the Chaplain, looking at his
+watch.
+
+The condemned repressed a shiver and commenced.
+
+“Most people will be of opinion that I am paying the penalty of my own
+violent deeds.  In reality I am a victim to a lack of specialisation in
+my education and character.”
+
+“Lack of specialisation!” said the Chaplain.
+
+“Yes.  If I had been known as one of the few men in England familiar with
+the fauna of the Outer Hebrides, or able to repeat stanzas of Camoens’
+poetry in the original, I should have had no difficulty in proving my
+identity in the crisis when my identity became a matter of life and death
+for me.  But my education was merely a moderately good one, and my
+temperament was of the general order that avoids specialisation.  I know
+a little in a general way about gardening and history and old masters,
+but I could never tell you off-hand whether ‘Stella van der Loopen’ was a
+chrysanthemum or a heroine of the American War of Independence, or
+something by Romney in the Louvre.”
+
+The Chaplain shifted uneasily in his seat.  Now that the alternatives had
+been suggested they all seemed dreadfully possible.
+
+“I fell in love, or thought I did, with the local doctor’s wife,”
+continued the condemned.  “Why I should have done so, I cannot say, for I
+do not remember that she possessed any particular attractions of mind or
+body.  On looking back at past events if seems to me that she must have
+been distinctly ordinary, but I suppose the doctor had fallen in love
+with her once, and what man had done man can do.  She appeared to be
+pleased with the attentions which I paid her, and to that extent I
+suppose I might say she encouraged me, but I think she was honestly
+unaware that I meant anything more than a little neighbourly interest.
+When one is face to face with Death one wishes to be just.”
+
+The Chaplain murmured approval.  “At any rate, she was genuinely
+horrified when I took advantage of the doctor’s absence one evening to
+declare what I believed to be my passion.  She begged me to pass out of
+her life, and I could scarcely do otherwise than agree, though I hadn’t
+the dimmest idea of how it was to be done.  In novels and plays I knew it
+was a regular occurrence, and if you mistook a lady’s sentiments or
+intentions you went off to India and did things on the frontier as a
+matter of course.  As I stumbled along the doctor’s carriage-drive I had
+no very clear idea as to what my line of action was to be, but I had a
+vague feeling that I must look at the _Times_ Atlas before going to bed.
+Then, on the dark and lonely highway, I came suddenly on a dead body.”
+
+The Chaplain’s interest in the story visibly quickened.
+
+“Judging by the clothes it wore, the corpse was that of a Salvation Army
+captain.  Some shocking accident seemed to have struck him down, and the
+head was crushed and battered out of all human semblance.  Probably, I
+thought, a motor-car fatality; and then, with a sudden overmastering
+insistence, came another thought, that here was a remarkable opportunity
+for losing my identity and passing out of the life of the doctor’s wife
+for ever.  No tiresome and risky voyage to distant lands, but a mere
+exchange of clothes and identity with the unknown victim of an
+unwitnessed accident.  With considerable difficulty I undressed the
+corpse, and clothed it anew in my own garments.  Any one who has valeted
+a dead Salvation Army captain in an uncertain light will appreciate the
+difficulty.  With the idea, presumably, of inducing the doctor’s wife to
+leave her husband’s roof-tree for some habitation which would be run at
+my expense, I had crammed my pockets with a store of banknotes, which
+represented a good deal of my immediate worldly wealth.  When, therefore,
+I stole away into the world in the guise of a nameless Salvationist, I
+was not without resources which would easily support so humble a rôle for
+a considerable period.  I tramped to a neighbouring market-town, and,
+late as the hour was, the production of a few shillings procured me
+supper and a night’s lodging in a cheap coffee-house.  The next day I
+started forth on an aimless course of wandering from one small town to
+another.  I was already somewhat disgusted with the upshot of my sudden
+freak; in a few hours’ time I was considerably more so.  In the
+contents-bill of a local news sheet I read the announcement of my own
+murder at the hands of some person unknown; on buying a copy of the paper
+for a detailed account of the tragedy, which at first had aroused in me a
+certain grim amusement, I found that the deed ascribed to a wandering
+Salvationist of doubtful antecedents, who had been seen lurking in the
+roadway near the scene of the crime.  I was no longer amused.  The matter
+promised to be embarrassing.  What I had mistaken for a motor accident
+was evidently a case of savage assault and murder, and, until the real
+culprit was found, I should have much difficulty in explaining my
+intrusion into the affair.  Of course I could establish my own identity;
+but how, without disagreeably involving the doctor’s wife, could I give
+any adequate reason for changing clothes with the murdered man?  While my
+brain worked feverishly at this problem, I subconsciously obeyed a
+secondary instinct—to get as far away as possible from the scene of the
+crime, and to get rid at all costs of my incriminating uniform.  There I
+found a difficulty.  I tried two or three obscure clothes shops, but my
+entrance invariably aroused an attitude of hostile suspicion in the
+proprietors, and on one excuse or another they avoided serving me with
+the now ardently desired change of clothing.  The uniform that I had so
+thoughtlessly donned seemed as difficult to get out of as the fatal shirt
+of—You know, I forget the creature’s name.”
+
+“Yes, yes,” said the Chaplain hurriedly.  “Go on with your story.”
+
+“Somehow, until I could get out of those compromising garments, I felt it
+would not be safe to surrender myself to the police.  The thing that
+puzzled me was why no attempt was made to arrest me, since there was no
+question as to the suspicion which followed me, like an inseparable
+shadow, wherever I went.  Stares, nudgings, whisperings, and even
+loud-spoken remarks of ‘that’s ’im’ greeted my every appearance, and the
+meanest and most deserted eating-house that I patronised soon became
+filled with a crowd of furtively watching customers.  I began to
+sympathise with the feeling of Royal personages trying to do a little
+private shopping under the unsparing scrutiny of an irrepressible public.
+And still, with all this inarticulate shadowing, which weighed on my
+nerves almost worse than open hostility would have done, no attempt was
+made to interfere with my liberty.  Later on I discovered the reason.  At
+the time of the murder on the lonely highway a series of important
+bloodhound trials had been taking place in the near neighbourhood, and
+some dozen and a half couples of trained animals had been put on the
+track of the supposed murderer—on my track.  One of our most
+public-spirited London dailies had offered a princely prize to the owner
+of the pair that should first track me down, and betting on the chances
+of the respective competitors became rife throughout the land.  The dogs
+ranged far and wide over about thirteen counties, and though my own
+movements had become by this time perfectly well-known to police and
+public alike, the sporting instincts of the nation stepped in to prevent
+my premature arrest.  “Give the dogs a chance,” was the prevailing
+sentiment, whenever some ambitious local constable wished to put an end
+to my drawn-out evasion of justice.  My final capture by the winning pair
+was not a very dramatic episode, in fact, I’m not sure that they would
+have taken any notice of me if I hadn’t spoken to them and patted them,
+but the event gave rise to an extraordinary amount of partisan
+excitement.  The owner of the pair who were next nearest up at the finish
+was an American, and he lodged a protest on the ground that an otterhound
+had married into the family of the winning pair six generations ago, and
+that the prize had been offered to the first pair of bloodhounds to
+capture the murderer, and that a dog that had 1/64th part of otterhound
+blood in it couldn’t technically be considered a bloodhound.  I forget
+how the matter was ultimately settled, but it aroused a tremendous amount
+of acrimonious discussion on both sides of the Atlantic.  My own
+contribution to the controversy consisted in pointing out that the whole
+dispute was beside the mark, as the actual murderer had not yet been
+captured; but I soon discovered that on this point there was not the
+least divergence of public or expert opinion.  I had looked forward
+apprehensively to the proving of my identity and the establishment of my
+motives as a disagreeable necessity; I speedily found out that the most
+disagreeable part of the business was that it couldn’t be done.  When I
+saw in the glass the haggard and hunted expression which the experiences
+of the past few weeks had stamped on my erstwhile placid countenance, I
+could scarcely feel surprised that the few friends and relations I
+possessed refused to recognise me in my altered guise, and persisted in
+their obstinate but widely shared belief that it was I who had been done
+to death on the highway.  To make matters worse, infinitely worse, an
+aunt of the really murdered man, an appalling female of an obviously low
+order of intelligence, identified me as her nephew, and gave the
+authorities a lurid account of my depraved youth and of her laudable but
+unavailing efforts to spank me into a better way.  I believe it was even
+proposed to search me for fingerprints.”
+
+“But,” said the Chaplain, “surely your educational attainments—”
+
+“That was just the crucial point,” said the condemned; “that was where my
+lack of specialisation told so fatally against me.  The dead
+Salvationist, whose identity I had so lightly and so disastrously
+adopted, had possessed a veneer of cheap modern education.  It should
+have been easy to demonstrate that my learning was on altogether another
+plane to his, but in my nervousness I bungled miserably over test after
+test that was put to me.  The little French I had ever known deserted me;
+I could not render a simple phrase about the gooseberry of the gardener
+into that language, because I had forgotten the French for gooseberry.”
+
+The Chaplain again wriggled uneasily in his seat.  “And then,” resumed
+the condemned, “came the final discomfiture.  In our village we had a
+modest little debating club, and I remembered having promised, chiefly, I
+suppose, to please and impress the doctor’s wife, to give a sketchy kind
+of lecture on the Balkan Crisis.  I had relied on being able to get up my
+facts from one or two standard works, and the back-numbers of certain
+periodicals.  The prosecution had made a careful note of the circumstance
+that the man whom I claimed to be—and actually was—had posed locally as
+some sort of second-hand authority on Balkan affairs, and, in the midst
+of a string of questions on indifferent topics, the examining counsel
+asked me with a diabolical suddenness if I could tell the Court the
+whereabouts of Novibazar.  I felt the question to be a crucial one;
+something told me that the answer was St. Petersburg or Baker Street.  I
+hesitated, looked helplessly round at the sea of tensely expectant faces,
+pulled myself together, and chose Baker Street.  And then I knew that
+everything was lost.  The prosecution had no difficulty in demonstrating
+that an individual, even moderately versed in the affairs of the Near
+East, could never have so unceremoniously dislocated Novibazar from its
+accustomed corner of the map.  It was an answer which the Salvation Army
+captain might conceivably have made—and I made it.  The circumstantial
+evidence connecting the Salvationist with the crime was overwhelmingly
+convincing, and I had inextricably identified myself with the
+Salvationist.  And thus it comes to pass that in ten minutes’ time I
+shall be hanged by the neck until I am dead in expiation of the murder of
+myself, which murder never took place, and of which, in any case, I am
+innocent.”
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+When the Chaplain returned to his quarters some fifteen minutes later,
+the black flag was floating over the prison tower.  Breakfast was waiting
+for him in the dining-room, but he first passed into his library, and,
+taking up the _Times_ Atlas, consulted a map of the Balkan Peninsula.  “A
+thing like that,” he observed, closing the volume with a snap, “might
+happen to any one.”
+
+
+
+
+THE SEX THAT DOESN’T SHOP
+
+
+The opening of a large new centre for West End shopping, particularly
+feminine shopping, suggests the reflection, Do women ever really shop?
+Of course, it is a well-attested fact that they go forth shopping as
+assiduously as a bee goes flower-visiting, but do they shop in the
+practical sense of the word?  Granted the money, time, and energy, a
+resolute course of shopping transactions would naturally result in having
+one’s ordinary domestic needs unfailingly supplied, whereas it is
+notorious that women servants (and housewives of all classes) make it
+almost a point of honour not to be supplied with everyday necessities.
+“We shall be out of starch by Thursday,” they say with fatalistic
+foreboding, and by Thursday they are out of starch.  They have predicted
+almost to a minute the moment when their supply would give out and if
+Thursday happens to be early closing day their triumph is complete.  A
+shop where starch is stored for retail purposes possibly stands at their
+very door, but the feminine mind has rejected such an obvious source for
+replenishing a dwindling stock.  “We don’t deal there” places it at once
+beyond the pale of human resort.  And it is noteworthy that, just as a
+sheep-worrying dog seldom molests the flocks in his near neighbourhood,
+so a woman rarely deals with shops in her immediate vicinity.  The more
+remote the source of supply the more fixed seems to be the resolve to run
+short of the commodity.  The Ark had probably not quitted its last
+moorings five minutes before some feminine voice gloatingly recorded a
+shortage of bird-seed.  A few days ago two lady acquaintances of mine
+were confessing to some mental uneasiness because a friend had called
+just before lunch-time, and they had been unable to ask her to stop and
+share their meal, as (with a touch of legitimate pride) “there was
+nothing in the house.”  I pointed out that they lived in a street that
+bristled with provision shops and that it would have been easy to
+mobilise a very passable luncheon in less than five minutes.  “That,”
+they said with quiet dignity, “would not have occurred to us,” and I felt
+that I had suggested something bordering on the indecent.
+
+But it is in catering for her literary wants that a woman’s shopping
+capacity breaks down most completely.  If you have perchance produced a
+book which has met with some little measure of success, you are certain
+to get a letter from some lady whom you scarcely known to bow to, asking
+you “how it can be got.”  She knows the name of the book, its author, and
+who published it, but how to get into actual contact with it is still an
+unsolved problem to her.  You write back pointing out that to have
+recourse to an ironmonger or a corn-dealer will only entail delay and
+disappointment, and suggest an application to a bookseller as the most
+hopeful thing you can think of.  In a day or two she writes again: “It is
+all right; I have borrowed it from your aunt.”  Here, of course, we have
+an example of the Beyond-Shopper, one who has learned the Better Way, but
+the helplessness exists even when such bypaths of relief are closed.  A
+lady who lives in the West End was expressing to me the other day her
+interest in West Highland terriers, and her desire to know more about the
+breed, so when, a few days later, I came across an exhaustive article on
+that subject in the current number of one of our best known outdoor-life
+weeklies, I mentioned that circumstance in a letter, giving the date of
+that number.  “I cannot get the paper,” was her telephoned response.  And
+she couldn’t.  She lived in a city where newsagents are numbered, I
+suppose, by the thousand, and she must have passed dozens of such shops
+in her daily shopping excursions, but as far as she was concerned that
+article on West Highland terriers might as well have been written in a
+missal stored away in some Buddhist monastery in Eastern Thibet.
+
+The brutal directness of the masculine shopper arouses a certain
+combative derision in the feminine onlooker.  A cat that spreads one
+shrew-mouse over the greater part of a long summer afternoon, and then
+possibly loses him, doubtless feels the same contempt for the terrier who
+compresses his rat into ten seconds of the strenuous life.  I was
+finishing off a short list of purchases a few afternoons ago when I was
+discovered by a lady of my acquaintance whom, swerving aside from the
+lead given us by her godparents thirty years ago, we will call Agatha.
+
+“You’re surely not buying blotting-paper _here_?” she exclaimed in an
+agitated whisper, and she seemed so genuinely concerned that I stayed my
+hand.
+
+“Let me take you to Winks and Pinks,” she said as soon as we were out of
+the building: “they’ve got such lovely shades of blotting-paper—pearl and
+heliotrope and _momie_ and crushed—”
+
+“But I want ordinary white blotting-paper,” I said.
+
+“Never mind.  They know me at Winks and Pinks,” she replied
+inconsequently.  Agatha apparently has an idea that blotting-paper is
+only sold in small quantities to persons of known reputation, who may be
+trusted not to put it to dangerous or improper uses.  After walking some
+two hundred yards she began to feel that her tea was of more immediate
+importance than my blotting-paper.
+
+“What do you want blotting-paper for?” she asked suddenly.  I explained
+patiently.
+
+“I use it to dry up the ink of wet manuscript without smudging the
+writing.  Probably a Chinese invention of the second century before
+Christ, but I’m not sure.  The only other use for it that I can think of
+is to roll it into a ball for a kitten to play with.”
+
+“But you haven’t got a kitten,” said Agatha, with a feminine desire for
+stating the entire truth on most occasions.
+
+“A stray one might come in at any moment,” I replied.
+
+Anyway, I didn’t get the blotting-paper.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLOOD-FEUD OF TOAD-WATER
+A WEST-COUNTRY EPIC
+
+
+The Cricks lived at Toad-Water; and in the same lonely upland spot Fate
+had pitched the home of the Saunderses, and for miles around these two
+dwellings there was never a neighbour or a chimney or even a
+burying-ground to bring a sense of cheerful communion or social
+intercourse.  Nothing but fields and spinneys and barns, lanes and
+waste-lands.  Such was Toad-Water; and, even so, Toad-Water had its
+history.
+
+Thrust away in the benighted hinterland of a scattered market district,
+it might have been supposed that these two detached items of the Great
+Human Family would have leaned towards one another in a fellowship
+begotten of kindred circumstances and a common isolation from the outer
+world.  And perhaps it had been so once, but the way of things had
+brought it otherwise.  Indeed, otherwise.  Fate, which had linked the two
+families in such unavoidable association of habitat, had ordained that
+the Crick household should nourish and maintain among its earthly
+possessions sundry head of domestic fowls, while to the Saunderses was
+given a disposition towards the cultivation of garden crops.  Herein lay
+the material, ready to hand, for the coming of feud and ill-blood.  For
+the grudge between the man of herbs and the man of live stock is no new
+thing; you will find traces of it in the fourth chapter of Genesis.  And
+one sunny afternoon in late spring-time the feud came—came, as such
+things mostly do come, with seeming aimlessness and triviality.  One of
+the Crick hens, in obedience to the nomadic instincts of her kind,
+wearied of her legitimate scratching-ground, and flew over the low wall
+that divided the holdings of the neighbours.  And there, on the yonder
+side, with a hurried consciousness that her time and opportunities might
+be limited, the misguided bird scratched and scraped and beaked and
+delved in the soft yielding bed that had been prepared for the solace and
+well-being of a colony of seedling onions.  Little showers of earth-mould
+and root-fibres went spraying before the hen and behind her, and every
+minute the area of her operations widened.  The onions suffered
+considerably.  Mrs. Saunders, sauntering at this luckless moment down the
+garden path, in order to fill her soul with reproaches at the iniquity of
+the weeds, which grew faster than she or her good man cared to remove
+them, stopped in mute discomfiture before the presence of a more
+magnificent grievance.  And then, in the hour of her calamity, she turned
+instinctively to the Great Mother, and gathered in her capacious hands
+large clods of the hard brown soil that lay at her feet.  With a terrible
+sincerity of purpose, though with a contemptible inadequacy of aim, she
+rained her earth bolts at the marauder, and the bursting pellets called
+forth a flood of cackling protest and panic from the hastily departing
+fowl.  Calmness under misfortune is not an attribute of either hen-folk
+or womenkind, and while Mrs. Saunders declaimed over her onion bed such
+portions of the slang dictionary as are permitted by the Nonconformist
+conscience to be said or sung, the Vasco da Gama fowl was waking the
+echoes of Toad-Water with crescendo bursts of throat music which
+compelled attention to her griefs.  Mrs. Crick had a long family, and was
+therefore licensed, in the eyes of her world, to have a short temper, and
+when some of her ubiquitous offspring had informed her, with the
+authority of eye-witnesses, that her neighbour had so far forgotten
+herself as to heave stones at her hen—her best hen, the best layer in the
+countryside—her thoughts clothed themselves in language “unbecoming to a
+Christian woman”—so at least said Mrs. Saunders, to whom most of the
+language was applied.  Nor was she, on her part, surprised at Mrs.
+Crick’s conduct in letting her hens stray into other body’s gardens, and
+then abusing of them, seeing as how she remembered things against Mrs.
+Crick—and the latter simultaneously had recollections of lurking episodes
+in the past of Susan Saunders that were nothing to her credit.  “Fond
+memory, when all things fade we fly to thee,” and in the paling light of
+an April afternoon the two women confronted each other from their
+respective sides of the party wall, recalling with shuddering breath the
+blots and blemishes of their neighbour’s family record.  There was that
+aunt of Mrs. Crick’s who had died a pauper in Exeter workhouse—every one
+knew that Mrs. Saunders’ uncle on her mother’s side drank himself to
+death—then there was that Bristol cousin of Mrs. Crick’s!  From the
+shrill triumph with which his name was dragged in, his crime must have
+been pilfering from a cathedral at least, but as both remembrancers were
+speaking at once it was difficult to distinguish his infamy from the
+scandal which beclouded the memory of Mrs. Saunders’ brother’s wife’s
+mother—who may have been a regicide, and was certainly not a nice person
+as Mrs. Crick painted her.  And then, with an air of accumulating and
+irresistible conviction, each belligerent informed the other that she was
+no lady—after which they withdrew in a great silence, feeling that
+nothing further remained to be said.  The chaffinches clinked in the
+apple trees and the bees droned round the berberis bushes, and the waning
+sunlight slanted pleasantly across the garden plots, but between the
+neighbour households had sprung up a barrier of hate, permeating and
+permanent.
+
+The male heads of the families were necessarily drawn into the quarrel,
+and the children on either side were forbidden to have anything to do
+with the unhallowed offspring of the other party.  As they had to travel
+a good three miles along the same road to school every day, this was
+awkward, but such things have to be.  Thus all communication between the
+households was sundered.  Except the cats.  Much as Mrs. Saunders might
+deplore it, rumour persistently pointed to the Crick he-cat as the
+presumable father of sundry kittens of which the Saunders she-cat was
+indisputably the mother.  Mrs. Saunders drowned the kittens, but the
+disgrace remained.
+
+Summer succeeded spring, and winter summer, but the feud outlasted the
+waning seasons.  Once, indeed, it seemed as though the healing influences
+of religion might restore to Toad-Water its erstwhile peace; the hostile
+families found themselves side by side in the soul-kindling atmosphere of
+a Revival Tea, where hymns were blended with a beverage that came of
+tea-leaves and hot water and took after the latter parent, and where
+ghostly counsel was tempered by garnishings of solidly fashioned buns—and
+here, wrought up by the environment of festive piety, Mrs. Saunders so
+far unbent as to remark guardedly to Mrs. Crick that the evening had been
+a fine one.  Mrs. Crick, under the influence of her ninth cup of tea and
+her fourth hymn, ventured on the hope that it might continue fine, but a
+maladroit allusion on the part of the Saunders good man to the
+backwardness of garden crops brought the Feud stalking forth from its
+corner with all its old bitterness.  Mrs. Saunders joined heartily in the
+singing of the final hymn, which told of peace and joy and archangels and
+golden glories; but her thoughts were dwelling on the pauper aunt of
+Exeter.
+
+Years have rolled away, and some of the actors in this wayside drama have
+passed into the Unknown; other onions have arisen, have flourished, have
+gone their way, and the offending hen has long since expiated her
+misdeeds and lain with trussed feet and a look of ineffable peace under
+the arched roof of Barnstaple market.
+
+But the Blood-feud of Toad-Water survives to this day.
+
+
+
+
+A YOUNG TURKISH CATASTROPHE
+IN TWO SCENES
+
+
+The Minister for Fine Arts (to whose Department had been lately added the
+new sub-section of Electoral Engineering) paid a business visit to the
+Grand Vizier.  According to Eastern etiquette they discoursed for a while
+on indifferent subjects.  The minister only checked himself in time from
+making a passing reference to the Marathon Race, remembering that the
+Vizier had a Persian grandmother and might consider any allusion to
+Marathon as somewhat tactless.  Presently the Minister broached the
+subject of his interview.
+
+“Under the new Constitution are women to have votes?” he asked suddenly.
+
+“To have votes?  Women?” exclaimed the Vizier in some astonishment.  “My
+dear Pasha, the New Departure has a flavour of the absurd as it is; don’t
+let’s try and make it altogether ridiculous.  Women have no souls and no
+intelligence; why on earth should they have votes?”
+
+“I know it sounds absurd,” said the Minister, “but they are seriously
+considering the idea in the West.”
+
+“Then they must have a larger equipment of seriousness than I gave them
+credit for.  After a lifetime of specialised effort in maintaining my
+gravity I can scarcely restrain an inclination to smile at the
+suggestion.  Why, out womenfolk in most cases don’t know how to read or
+write.  How could they perform the operation of voting?”
+
+“They could be shown the names of the candidates and where to make their
+cross.”
+
+“I beg your pardon?” interrupted the Vizier.
+
+“Their crescent, I mean,” corrected the Minister.  “It would be to the
+liking of the Young Turkish Party,” he added.
+
+“Oh, well,” said the Vizier, “if we are to do the thing at all we may as
+well go the whole h---” he pulled up just as he was uttering the name of
+an unclean animal, and continued, “the complete camel.  I will issue
+instructions that womenfolk are to have votes.”
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+The poll was drawing to a close in the Lakoumistan division.  The
+candidate of the Young Turkish Party was known to be three or four
+hundred votes ahead, and he was already drafting his address, returning
+thanks to the electors.  His victory had been almost a foregone
+conclusion, for he had set in motion all the approved electioneering
+machinery of the West.  He had even employed motorcars.  Few of his
+supporters had gone to the poll in these vehicles, but, thanks to the
+intelligent driving of his chauffeurs, many of his opponents had gone to
+their graves or to the local hospitals, or otherwise abstained from
+voting.  And then something unlooked-for happened.  The rival candidate,
+Ali the Blest, arrived on the scene with his wives and womenfolk, who
+numbered, roughly, six hundred.  Ali had wasted little effort on election
+literature, but had been heard to remark that every vote given to his
+opponent meant another sack thrown into the Bosphorus.  The Young Turkish
+candidate, who had conformed to the Western custom of one wife and hardly
+any mistresses, stood by helplessly while his adversary’s poll swelled to
+a triumphant majority.
+
+“Cristabel Columbus!” he exclaimed, invoking in some confusion the name
+of a distinguished pioneer; “who would have thought it?”
+
+“Strange,” mused Ali, “that one who harangued so clamorously about the
+Secret Ballot should have overlooked the Veiled Vote.”
+
+And, walking homeward with his constituents, he murmured in his beard an
+improvisation on the heretic poet of Persia:
+
+    “One, rich in metaphors, his Cause contrives
+    To urge with edged words, like Kabul knives;
+    And I, who worst him in this sorry game,
+    Was never rich in anything but—wives.”
+
+
+
+
+JUDKIN OF THE PARCELS
+
+
+A figure in an indefinite tweed suit, carrying brown-paper parcels.  That
+is what we met suddenly, at the bend of a muddy Dorsetshire lane, and the
+roan mare stared and obviously thought of a curtsey.  The mare is
+road-shy, with intervals of stolidity, and there is no telling what she
+will pass and what she won’t.  We call her Redford.  That was my first
+meeting with Judkin, and the next time the circumstances were the same;
+the same muddy lane, the same rather apologetic figure in the tweed suit,
+the same—or very similar—parcels.  Only this time the roan looked
+straight in front of her.
+
+Whether I asked the groom or whether he advanced the information, I
+forget; but someway I gradually reconstructed the life-history of this
+trudger of the lanes.  It was much the same, no doubt, as that of many
+others who are from time to time pointed out to one as having been
+aforetime in crack cavalry regiments and noted performers in the saddle;
+men who have breathed into their lungs the wonder of the East, have
+romped through life as through a cotillon, have had a thrust perhaps at
+the Viceroy’s Cup, and done fantastic horsefleshy things around the Gulf
+of Aden.  And then a golden stream has dried up, the sunlight has faded
+suddenly out of things, and the gods have nodded “Go.”  And they have not
+gone.  They have turned instead to the muddy lanes and cheap villas and
+the marked-down ills of life, to watch pear trees growing and to
+encourage hens for their eggs.  And Judkin was even as these others; the
+wine had been suddenly spilt from his cup of life, and he had stayed to
+suck at the dregs which the wise throw away.  In the days of his scorn
+for most things he would have stared the roan mare and her turn-out out
+of all pretension to smartness, as he would have frozen a cheap claret
+behind its cork, or a plain woman behind her veil; and now he was walking
+stoically through the mud, in a tweed suit that would eventually go on to
+the gardener’s boy, and would perhaps fit him.  The dear gods, who know
+the end before the beginning, were perhaps growing a gardener’s boy
+somewhere to fit the garments, and Judkin was only a caretaker,
+inhabiting a portion of them.  That is what I like to think, and I am
+probably wrong.  And Judkin, whose clothes had been to him once more than
+a religion, scarcely less sacred than a family quarrel, would carry those
+parcels back to his villa and to the wife who awaited him and them—a wife
+who may, for all we know to the contrary, have had a figure once, and
+perhaps has yet a heart of gold—of nine-carat gold, let us say at the
+least—but assuredly a soul of tape.  And he that has fetched and carried
+will explain how it has fared with him in his dealings, and if he has
+brought the wrong sort of sugar or thread he will wheedle away the
+displeasure from that leaden face as a pastrycook girl will drive
+bluebottles off a stale bun.  And that man has known what it was to coax
+the fret of a thoroughbred, to soothe its toss and sweat as it danced
+beneath him in the glee and chafe of its pulses and the glory of its
+thews.  He has been in the raw places of the earth, where the desert
+beasts have whimpered their unthinkable psalmody, and their eyes have
+shone back the reflex of the midnight stars—and he can immerse himself in
+the tending of an incubator.  It is horrible and wrong, and yet when I
+have met him in the lanes his face has worn a look of tedious
+cheerfulness that might pass for happiness.  Has Judkin of the Parcels
+found something in the lees of life that I have missed in going to and
+fro over many waters?  Is there more wisdom in his perverseness than in
+the madness of the wise?  The dear gods know.
+
+I don’t think I saw Judkin more than three times all told, and always the
+lane was our point of contact; but as the roan mare was taking me to the
+station one heavy, cloud-smeared day, I passed a dull-looking villa that
+the groom, or instinct, told me was Judkin’s home.  From beyond a hedge
+of ragged elder-bushes could be heard the thud, thud of a spade, with an
+occasional clink and pause, as if some one had picked out a stone and
+thrown it to a distance, and I knew that _he_ was doing nameless things
+to the roots of a pear tree.  Near by him, I felt sure, would be lying a
+large and late vegetable marrow, and its largeness and lateness would be
+a theme of conversation at luncheon.  It would be suggested that it
+should grace the harvest thanksgiving service; the harvest having been so
+generally unsatisfactory, it would be unfair to let the farmers supply
+all the material for rejoicing.
+
+And while I was speeding townwards along the rails Judkin would be
+plodding his way to the vicarage bearing a vegetable marrow and a
+basketful of dahlias.  The basket to be returned.
+
+
+
+
+GABRIEL-ERNEST
+
+
+“There is a wild beast in your woods,” said the artist Cunningham, as he
+was being driven to the station.  It was the only remark he had made
+during the drive, but as Van Cheele had talked incessantly his
+companion’s silence had not been noticeable.
+
+“A stray fox or two and some resident weasels.  Nothing more formidable,”
+said Van Cheele.  The artist said nothing.
+
+“What did you mean about a wild beast?” said Van Cheele later, when they
+were on the platform.
+
+“Nothing.  My imagination.  Here is the train,” said Cunningham.
+
+That afternoon Van Cheele went for one of his frequent rambles through
+his woodland property.  He had a stuffed bittern in his study, and knew
+the names of quite a number of wild flowers, so his aunt had possibly
+some justification in describing him as a great naturalist.  At any rate,
+he was a great walker.  It was his custom to take mental notes of
+everything he saw during his walks, not so much for the purpose of
+assisting contemporary science as to provide topics for conversation
+afterwards.  When the bluebells began to show themselves in flower he
+made a point of informing every one of the fact; the season of the year
+might have warned his hearers of the likelihood of such an occurrence,
+but at least they felt that he was being absolutely frank with them.
+
+What Van Cheele saw on this particular afternoon was, however, something
+far removed from his ordinary range of experience.  On a shelf of smooth
+stone overhanging a deep pool in the hollow of an oak coppice a boy of
+about sixteen lay asprawl, drying his wet brown limbs luxuriously in the
+sun.  His wet hair, parted by a recent dive, lay close to his head, and
+his light-brown eyes, so light that there was an almost tigerish gleam in
+them, were turned towards Van Cheele with a certain lazy watchfulness.
+It was an unexpected apparition, and Van Cheele found himself engaged in
+the novel process of thinking before he spoke.  Where on earth could this
+wild-looking boy hail from?  The miller’s wife had lost a child some two
+months ago, supposed to have been swept away by the mill-race, but that
+had been a mere baby, not a half-grown lad.
+
+“What are you doing there?” he demanded.
+
+“Obviously, sunning myself,” replied the boy.
+
+“Where do you live?”
+
+“Here, in these woods.”
+
+“You can’t live in the woods,” said Van Cheele.
+
+“They are very nice woods,” said the boy, with a touch of patronage in
+his voice.
+
+“But where do you sleep at night?”
+
+“I don’t sleep at night; that’s my busiest time.”
+
+Van Cheele began to have an irritated feeling that he was grappling with
+a problem that was eluding him.
+
+“What do you feed on?” he asked.
+
+“Flesh,” said the boy, and he pronounced the word with slow relish, as
+though he were tasting it.
+
+“Flesh!  What Flesh?”
+
+“Since it interests you, rabbits, wild-fowl, hares, poultry, lambs in
+their season, children when I can get any; they’re usually too well
+locked in at night, when I do most of my hunting.  It’s quite two months
+since I tasted child-flesh.”
+
+Ignoring the chaffing nature of the last remark Van Cheele tried to draw
+the boy on the subject of possible poaching operations.
+
+“You’re talking rather through your hat when you speak of feeding on
+hares.”  (Considering the nature of the boy’s toilet the simile was
+hardly an apt one.)  “Our hillside hares aren’t easily caught.”
+
+“At night I hunt on four feet,” was the somewhat cryptic response.
+
+“I suppose you mean that you hunt with a dog?” hazarded Van Cheele.
+
+The boy rolled slowly over on to his back, and laughed a weird low laugh,
+that was pleasantly like a chuckle and disagreeably like a snarl.
+
+“I don’t fancy any dog would be very anxious for my company, especially
+at night.”
+
+Van Cheele began to feel that there was something positively uncanny
+about the strange-eyed, strange-tongued youngster.
+
+“I can’t have you staying in these woods,” he declared authoritatively.
+
+“I fancy you’d rather have me here than in your house,” said the boy.
+
+The prospect of this wild, nude animal in Van Cheele’s primly ordered
+house was certainly an alarming one.
+
+“If you don’t go.  I shall have to make you,” said Van Cheele.
+
+The boy turned like a flash, plunged into the pool, and in a moment had
+flung his wet and glistening body half-way up the bank where Van Cheele
+was standing.  In an otter the movement would not have been remarkable;
+in a boy Van Cheele found it sufficiently startling.  His foot slipped as
+he made an involuntarily backward movement, and he found himself almost
+prostrate on the slippery weed-grown bank, with those tigerish yellow
+eyes not very far from his own.  Almost instinctively he half raised his
+hand to his throat.  They boy laughed again, a laugh in which the snarl
+had nearly driven out the chuckle, and then, with another of his
+astonishing lightning movements, plunged out of view into a yielding
+tangle of weed and fern.
+
+“What an extraordinary wild animal!” said Van Cheele as he picked himself
+up.  And then he recalled Cunningham’s remark “There is a wild beast in
+your woods.”
+
+Walking slowly homeward, Van Cheele began to turn over in his mind
+various local occurrences which might be traceable to the existence of
+this astonishing young savage.
+
+Something had been thinning the game in the woods lately, poultry had
+been missing from the farms, hares were growing unaccountably scarcer,
+and complaints had reached him of lambs being carried off bodily from the
+hills.  Was it possible that this wild boy was really hunting the
+countryside in company with some clever poacher dogs?  He had spoken of
+hunting “four-footed” by night, but then, again, he had hinted strangely
+at no dog caring to come near him, “especially at night.”  It was
+certainly puzzling.  And then, as Van Cheele ran his mind over the
+various depredations that had been committed during the last month or
+two, he came suddenly to a dead stop, alike in his walk and his
+speculations.  The child missing from the mill two months ago—the
+accepted theory was that it had tumbled into the mill-race and been swept
+away; but the mother had always declared she had heard a shriek on the
+hill side of the house, in the opposite direction from the water.  It was
+unthinkable, of course, but he wished that the boy had not made that
+uncanny remark about child-flesh eaten two months ago.  Such dreadful
+things should not be said even in fun.
+
+Van Cheele, contrary to his usual wont, did not feel disposed to be
+communicative about his discovery in the wood.  His position as a parish
+councillor and justice of the peace seemed somehow compromised by the
+fact that he was harbouring a personality of such doubtful repute on his
+property; there was even a possibility that a heavy bill of damages for
+raided lambs and poultry might be laid at his door.  At dinner that night
+he was quite unusually silent.
+
+“Where’s your voice gone to?” said his aunt.  “One would think you had
+seen a wolf.”
+
+Van Cheele, who was not familiar with the old saying, thought the remark
+rather foolish; if he _had_ seen a wolf on his property his tongue would
+have been extraordinarily busy with the subject.
+
+At breakfast next morning Van Cheele was conscious that his feeling of
+uneasiness regarding yesterday’s episode had not wholly disappeared, and
+he resolved to go by train to the neighbouring cathedral town, hunt up
+Cunningham, and learn from him what he had really seen that had prompted
+the remark about a wild beast in the woods.  With this resolution taken,
+his usual cheerfulness partially returned, and he hummed a bright little
+melody as he sauntered to the morning-room for his customary cigarette.
+As he entered the room the melody made way abruptly for a pious
+invocation.  Gracefully asprawl on the ottoman, in an attitude of almost
+exaggerated repose, was the boy of the woods.  He was drier than when Van
+Cheele had last seen him, but no other alteration was noticeable in his
+toilet.
+
+“How dare you come here?” asked Van Cheele furiously.
+
+“You told me I was not to stay in the woods,” said the boy calmly.
+
+“But not to come here.  Supposing my aunt should see you!”
+
+And with a view to minimising that catastrophe, Van Cheele hastily
+obscured as much of his unwelcome guest as possible under the folds of a
+_Morning Post_.  At that moment his aunt entered the room.
+
+“This is a poor boy who has lost his way—and lost his memory.  He doesn’t
+know who he is or where he comes from,” explained Van Cheele desperately,
+glancing apprehensively at the waif’s face to see whether he was going to
+add inconvenient candour to his other savage propensities.
+
+Miss Van Cheele was enormously interested.
+
+“Perhaps his underlinen is marked,” she suggested.
+
+“He seems to have lost most of that, too,” said Van Cheele, making
+frantic little grabs at the _Morning Post_ to keep it in its place.
+
+A naked homeless child appealed to Miss Van Cheele as warmly as a stray
+kitten or derelict puppy would have done.
+
+“We must do all we can for him,” she decided, and in a very short time a
+messenger, dispatched to the rectory, where a page-boy was kept, had
+returned with a suit of pantry clothes, and the necessary accessories of
+shirt, shoes, collar, etc.  Clothed, clean, and groomed, the boy lost
+none of his uncanniness in Van Cheele’s eyes, but his aunt found him
+sweet.
+
+“We must call him something till we know who he really is,” she said.
+“Gabriel-Ernest, I think; those are nice suitable names.”
+
+Van Cheele agreed, but he privately doubted whether they were being
+grafted on to a nice suitable child.  His misgivings were not diminished
+by the fact that his staid and elderly spaniel had bolted out of the
+house at the first incoming of the boy, and now obstinately remained
+shivering and yapping at the farther end of the orchard, while the
+canary, usually as vocally industrious as Van Cheele himself, had put
+itself on an allowance of frightened cheeps.  More than ever he was
+resolved to consult Cunningham without loss of time.
+
+As he drove off to the station his aunt was arranging that Gabriel-Ernest
+should help her to entertain the infant members of her Sunday-school
+class at tea that afternoon.
+
+Cunningham was not at first disposed to be communicative.
+
+“My mother died of some brain trouble,” he explained, “so you will
+understand why I am averse to dwelling on anything of an impossibly
+fantastic nature that I may see or think that I have seen.”
+
+“But what _did_ you see?” persisted Van Cheele.
+
+“What I thought I saw was something so extraordinary that no really sane
+man could dignify it with the credit of having actually happened.  I was
+standing, the last evening I was with you, half-hidden in the
+hedge-growth by the orchard gate, watching the dying glow of the sunset.
+Suddenly I became aware of a naked boy, a bather from some neighbouring
+pool, I took him to be, who was standing out on the bare hillside also
+watching the sunset.  His pose was so suggestive of some wild faun of
+Pagan myth that I instantly wanted to engage him as a model, and in
+another moment I think I should have hailed him.  But just then the sun
+dipped out of view, and all the orange and pink slid out of the
+landscape, leaving it cold and grey.  And at the same moment an
+astounding thing happened—the boy vanished too!”
+
+“What! vanished away into nothing?” asked Van Cheele excitedly.
+
+“No; that is the dreadful part of it,” answered the artist; “on the open
+hillside where the boy had been standing a second ago, stood a large
+wolf, blackish in colour, with gleaming fangs and cruel, yellow eyes.
+You may think—”
+
+But Van Cheele did not stop for anything as futile as thought.  Already
+he was tearing at top speed towards the station.  He dismissed the idea
+of a telegram.  “Gabriel-Ernest is a werewolf” was a hopelessly
+inadequate effort at conveying the situation, and his aunt would think it
+was a code message to which he had omitted to give her the key.  His one
+hope was that he might reach home before sundown.  The cab which he
+chartered at the other end of the railway journey bore him with what
+seemed exasperating slowness along the country roads, which were pink and
+mauve with the flush of the sinking sun.  His aunt was putting away some
+unfinished jams and cake when he arrived.
+
+“Where is Gabriel-Ernest?” he almost screamed.
+
+“He is taking the little Toop child home,” said his aunt.  “It was
+getting so late, I thought it wasn’t safe to let it go back alone.  What
+a lovely sunset, isn’t it?”
+
+But Van Cheele, although not oblivious of the glow in the western sky,
+did not stay to discuss its beauties.  At a speed for which he was
+scarcely geared he raced along the narrow lane that led to the home of
+the Toops.  On one side ran the swift current of the mill-stream, on the
+other rose the stretch of bare hillside.  A dwindling rim of red sun
+showed still on the skyline, and the next turning must bring him in view
+of the ill-assorted couple he was pursuing.  Then the colour went
+suddenly out of things, and a grey light settled itself with a quick
+shiver over the landscape.  Van Cheele heard a shrill wail of fear, and
+stopped running.
+
+Nothing was ever seen again of the Toop child or Gabriel-Ernest, but the
+latter’s discarded garments were found lying in the road so it was
+assumed that the child had fallen into the water, and that the boy had
+stripped and jumped in, in a vain endeavour to save it.  Van Cheele and
+some workmen who were near by at the time testified to having heard a
+child scream loudly just near the spot where the clothes were found.
+Mrs. Toop, who had eleven other children, was decently resigned to her
+bereavement, but Miss Van Cheele sincerely mourned her lost foundling.
+It was on her initiative that a memorial brass was put up in the parish
+church to “Gabriel-Ernest, an unknown boy, who bravely sacrificed his
+life for another.”
+
+Van Cheele gave way to his aunt in most things, but he flatly refused to
+subscribe to the Gabriel-Ernest memorial.
+
+
+
+
+THE SAINT AND THE GOBLIN
+
+
+The little stone Saint occupied a retired niche in a side aisle of the
+old cathedral.  No one quite remembered who he had been, but that in a
+way was a guarantee of respectability.  At least so the Goblin said.  The
+Goblin was a very fine specimen of quaint stone carving, and lived up in
+the corbel on the wall opposite the niche of the little Saint.  He was
+connected with some of the best cathedral folk, such as the queer
+carvings in the choir stalls and chancel screen, and even the gargoyles
+high up on the roof.  All the fantastic beasts and manikins that sprawled
+and twisted in wood or stone or lead overhead in the arches or away down
+in the crypt were in some way akin to him; consequently he was a person
+of recognised importance in the cathedral world.
+
+The little stone Saint and the Goblin got on very well together, though
+they looked at most things from different points of view.  The Saint was
+a philanthropist in an old fashioned way; he thought the world, as he saw
+it, was good, but might be improved.  In particular he pitied the church
+mice, who were miserably poor.  The Goblin, on the other hand, was of
+opinion that the world, as he knew it, was bad, but had better be let
+alone.  It was the function of the church mice to be poor.
+
+“All the same,” said the Saint, “I feel very sorry for them.”
+
+“Of course you do,” said the Goblin; “it’s _your_ function to feel sorry
+for them.  If they were to leave off being poor you couldn’t fulfil your
+functions.  You’d be a sinecure.”
+
+He rather hoped that the Saint would ask him what a sinecure meant, but
+the latter took refuge in a stony silence.  The Goblin might be right,
+but still, he thought, he would like to do something for the church mice
+before winter came on; they were so very poor.
+
+Whilst he was thinking the matter over he was startled by something
+falling between his feet with a hard metallic clatter.  It was a bright
+new thaler; one of the cathedral jackdaws, who collected such things, had
+flown in with it to a stone cornice just above his niche, and the banging
+of the sacristy door had startled him into dropping it.  Since the
+invention of gunpowder the family nerves were not what they had been.
+
+“What have you got there?” asked the Goblin.
+
+“A silver thaler,” said the Saint.  “Really,” he continued, “it is most
+fortunate; now I can do something for the church mice.”
+
+“How will you manage it?” asked the Goblin.
+
+The Saint considered.
+
+“I will appear in a vision to the vergeress who sweeps the floors.  I
+will tell her that she will find a silver thaler between my feet, and
+that she must take it and buy a measure of corn and put it on my shrine.
+When she finds the money she will know that it was a true dream, and she
+will take care to follow my directions.  Then the mice will have food all
+the winter.”
+
+“Of course _you_ can do that,” observed the Goblin.  “Now, _I_ can only
+appear to people after they have had a heavy supper of indigestible
+things.  My opportunities with the vergeress would be limited.  There is
+some advantage in being a saint after all.”
+
+All this while the coin was lying at the Saint’s feet.  It was clean and
+glittering and had the Elector’s arms beautifully stamped upon it.  The
+Saint began to reflect that such an opportunity was too rare to be
+hastily disposed of.  Perhaps indiscriminate charity might be harmful to
+the church mice.  After all, it was their function to be poor; the Goblin
+had said so, and the Goblin was generally right.
+
+“I’ve been thinking,” he said to that personage, “that perhaps it would
+be really better if I ordered a thaler’s worth of candles to be placed on
+my shrine instead of the corn.”
+
+He often wished, for the look of the thing, that people would sometimes
+burn candles at his shrine; but as they had forgotten who he was it was
+not considered a profitable speculation to pay him that attention.
+
+“Candles would be more orthodox,” said the Goblin.
+
+“More orthodox, certainly,” agreed the Saint, “and the mice could have
+the ends to eat; candle-ends are most fattening.”
+
+The Goblin was too well bred to wink; besides, being a stone goblin, it
+was out of the question.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+“Well, if it ain’t there, sure enough!” said the vergeress next morning.
+She took the shining coin down from the dusty niche and turned it over
+and over in her grimy hands.  Then she put it to her mouth and bit it.
+
+“She can’t be going to eat it,” thought the Saint, and fixed her with his
+stoniest stare.
+
+“Well,” said the woman, in a somewhat shriller key, “who’d have thought
+it!  A saint, too!”
+
+Then she did an unaccountable thing.  She hunted an old piece of tape out
+of her pocket, and tied to crosswise, with a big loop, round the thaler,
+and hung it round the neck of the little Saint.
+
+Then she went away.
+
+“The only possible explanation,” said the Goblin, “is that it’s a bad
+one.”
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+“What is that decoration your neighbour is wearing?” asked a wyvern that
+was wrought into the capital of an adjacent pillar.
+
+The Saint was ready to cry with mortification, only, being of stone, he
+couldn’t.
+
+“It’s a coin of—ahem!—fabulous value,” replied the Goblin tactfully.
+
+And the news went round the Cathedral that the shrine of the little stone
+Saint had been enriched by a priceless offering.
+
+“After all, it’s something to have the conscience of a goblin,” said the
+Saint to himself.
+
+The church mice were as poor as ever.  But that was their function.
+
+
+
+
+THE SOUL OF LAPLOSHKA
+
+
+Laploshka was one of the meanest men I have ever met, and quite one of
+the most entertaining.  He said horrid things about other people in such
+a charming way that one forgave him for the equally horrid things he said
+about oneself behind one’s back.  Hating anything in the way of
+ill-natured gossip ourselves, we are always grateful to those who do it
+for us and do it well.  And Laploshka did it really well.
+
+Naturally Laploshka had a large circle of acquaintances, and as he
+exercised some care in their selection it followed that an appreciable
+proportion were men whose bank balances enabled them to acquiesce
+indulgently in his rather one-sided views on hospitality.  Thus, although
+possessed of only moderate means, he was able to live comfortably within
+his income, and still more comfortably within those of various tolerantly
+disposed associates.
+
+But towards the poor or to those of the same limited resources as himself
+his attitude was one of watchful anxiety; he seemed to be haunted by a
+besetting fear lest some fraction of a shilling or franc, or whatever the
+prevailing coinage might be, should be diverted from his pocket or
+service into that of a hard-up companion.  A two-franc cigar would be
+cheerfully offered to a wealthy patron, on the principle of doing evil
+that good may come, but I have known him indulge in agonies of perjury
+rather than admit the incriminating possession of a copper coin when
+change was needed to tip a waiter.  The coin would have been duly
+returned at the earliest opportunity—he would have taken means to insure
+against forgetfulness on the part of the borrower—but accidents might
+happen, and even the temporary estrangement from his penny or sou was a
+calamity to be avoided.
+
+The knowledge of this amiable weakness offered a perpetual temptation to
+play upon Laploshka’s fears of involuntary generosity.  To offer him a
+lift in a cab and pretend not to have enough money to pay the fair, to
+fluster him with a request for a sixpence when his hand was full of
+silver just received in change, these were a few of the petty torments
+that ingenuity prompted as occasion afforded.  To do justice to
+Laploshka’s resourcefulness it must be admitted that he always emerged
+somehow or other from the most embarrassing dilemma without in any way
+compromising his reputation for saying “No.”  But the gods send
+opportunities at some time to most men, and mine came one evening when
+Laploshka and I were supping together in a cheap boulevard restaurant.
+(Except when he was the bidden guest of some one with an irreproachable
+income, Laploshka was wont to curb his appetite for high living; on such
+fortunate occasions he let it go on an easy snaffle.)  At the conclusion
+of the meal a somewhat urgent message called me away, and without heeding
+my companion’s agitated protest, I called back cruelly, “Pay my share;
+I’ll settle with you to-morrow.”  Early on the morrow Laploshka hunted me
+down by instinct as I walked along a side street that I hardly ever
+frequented.  He had the air of a man who had not slept.
+
+“You owe me two francs from last night,” was his breathless greeting.
+
+I spoke evasively of the situation in Portugal, where more trouble seemed
+brewing.  But Laploshka listened with the abstraction of the deaf adder,
+and quickly returned to the subject of the two francs.
+
+“I’m afraid I must owe it to you,” I said lightly and brutally.  “I
+haven’t a sou in the world,” and I added mendaciously, “I’m going away
+for six months or perhaps longer.”
+
+Laploshka said nothing, but his eyes bulged a little and his cheeks took
+on the mottled hues of an ethnographical map of the Balkan Peninsula.
+That same day, at sundown, he died.  “Failure of the heart’s action,” was
+the doctor’s verdict; but I, who knew better, knew that he died of grief.
+
+There arose the problem of what to do with his two francs.  To have
+killed Laploshka was one thing; to have kept his beloved money would have
+argued a callousness of feeling of which I am not capable.  The ordinary
+solution, of giving it to the poor, would by no means fit the present
+situation, for nothing would have distressed the dead man more than such
+a misuse of his property.  On the other hand, the bestowal of two francs
+on the rich was an operation which called for some tact.  An easy way out
+of the difficulty seemed, however, to present itself the following
+Sunday, as I was wedged into the cosmopolitan crowd which filled the
+side-aisle of one of the most popular Paris churches.  A collecting-bag,
+for “the poor of Monsieur le Curé,” was buffeting its tortuous way across
+the seemingly impenetrable human sea, and a German in front of me, who
+evidently did not wish his appreciation of the magnificent music to be
+marred by a suggestion of payment, made audible criticisms to his
+companion on the claims of the said charity.
+
+“They do not want money,” he said; “they have too much money.  They have
+no poor.  They are all pampered.”
+
+If that were really the case my way seemed clear.  I dropped Laploshka’s
+two francs into the bag with a murmured blessing on the rich of Monsieur
+le Curé.
+
+Some three weeks later chance had taken me to Vienna, and I sat one
+evening regaling myself in a humble but excellent little Gasthaus up in
+the Wahringer quarter.  The appointments were primitive, but the
+Schnitzel, the beer, and the cheese could not have been improved on.
+Good cheer brought good custom, and with the exception of one small table
+near the door every place was occupied.  Half-way through my meal I
+happened to glance in the direction of that empty seat, and saw that it
+was no longer empty.  Poring over the bill of fare with the absorbed
+scrutiny of one who seeks the cheapest among the cheap was Laploshka.
+Once he looked across at me, with a comprehensive glance at my repast, as
+though to say, “It is my two francs you are eating,” and then looked
+swiftly away.  Evidently the poor of Monsieur le Curé had been genuine
+poor.  The Schnitzel turned to leather in my mouth, the beer seemed
+tepid; I left the Emmenthaler untasted.  My one idea was to get away from
+the room, away from the table where _that_ was seated; and as I fled I
+felt Laploshka’s reproachful eyes watching the amount that I gave to the
+piccolo—out of his two francs.  I lunched next day at an expensive
+restaurant which I felt sure that the living Laploshka would never have
+entered on his own account, and I hoped that the dead Laploshka would
+observe the same barriers.  I was not mistaken, but as I came out I found
+him miserably studying the bill of fare stuck up on the portals.  Then he
+slowly made his way over to a milk-hall.  For the first time in my
+experience I missed the charm and gaiety of Vienna life.
+
+After that, in Paris or London or wherever I happened to be, I continued
+to see a good deal of Laploshka.  If I had a seat in a box at a theatre I
+was always conscious of his eyes furtively watching me from the dim
+recesses of the gallery.  As I turned into my club on a rainy afternoon I
+would see him taking inadequate shelter in a doorway opposite.  Even if I
+indulged in the modest luxury of a penny chair in the Park he generally
+confronted me from one of the free benches, never staring at me, but
+always elaborately conscious of my presence.  My friends began to comment
+on my changed looks, and advised me to leave off heaps of things.  I
+should have liked to have left off Laploshka.
+
+On a certain Sunday—it was probably Easter, for the crush was worse than
+ever—I was again wedged into the crowd listening to the music in the
+fashionable Paris church, and again the collection-bag was buffeting its
+way across the human sea.  An English lady behind me was making
+ineffectual efforts to convey a coin into the still distant bag, so I
+took the money at her request and helped it forward to its destination.
+It was a two-franc piece.  A swift inspiration came to me, and I merely
+dropped my own sou into the bag and slid the silver coin into my pocket.
+I had withdrawn Laploshka’s two francs from the poor, who should never
+have had the legacy.  As I backed away from the crowd I heard a woman’s
+voice say, “I don’t believe he put my money in the bag.  There are swarms
+of people in Paris like that!”  But my mind was lighter that it had been
+for a long time.
+
+The delicate mission of bestowing the retrieved sum on the deserving rich
+still confronted me.  Again I trusted to the inspiration of accident, and
+again fortune favoured me.  A shower drove me, two days later, into one
+of the historic churches on the left bank of the Seine, and there I
+found, peering at the old wood-carvings, the Baron R., one of the
+wealthiest and most shabbily dressed men in Paris.  It was now or never.
+Putting a strong American inflection into the French which I usually
+talked with an unmistakable British accent, I catechised the Baron as to
+the date of the church’s building, its dimensions, and other details
+which an American tourist would be certain to want to know.  Having
+acquired such information as the Baron was able to impart on short
+notice, I solemnly placed the two-franc piece in his hand, with the
+hearty assurance that it was “pour vous,” and turned to go.  The Baron
+was slightly taken aback, but accepted the situation with a good grace.
+Walking over to a small box fixed in the wall, he dropped Laploshka’s two
+francs into the slot.  Over the box was the inscription, “Pour les
+pauvres de M. le Curé.”
+
+That evening, at the crowded corner by the Cafe de la Paix, I caught a
+fleeting glimpse of Laploshka.  He smiled, slightly raised his hat, and
+vanished.  I never saw him again.  After all, the money had been _given_
+to the deserving rich, and the soul of Laploshka was at peace.
+
+
+
+
+THE BAG
+
+
+“The Major is coming in to tea,” said Mrs. Hoopington to her niece.
+“He’s just gone round to the stables with his horse.  Be as bright and
+lively as you can; the poor man’s got a fit of the glooms.”
+
+Major Pallaby was a victim of circumstances, over which he had no
+control, and of his temper, over which he had very little.  He had taken
+on the Mastership of the Pexdale Hounds in succession to a highly popular
+man who had fallen foul of his committee, and the Major found himself
+confronted with the overt hostility of at least half the hunt, while his
+lack of tact and amiability had done much to alienate the remainder.
+Hence subscriptions were beginning to fall off, foxes grew provokingly
+scarcer, and wire obtruded itself with increasing frequency.  The Major
+could plead reasonable excuse for his fit of the glooms.
+
+In ranging herself as a partisan on the side of Major Pallaby Mrs.
+Hoopington had been largely influenced by the fact that she had made up
+her mind to marry him at an early date.  Against his notorious bad temper
+she set his three thousand a year, and his prospective succession to a
+baronetcy gave a casting vote in his favour.  The Major’s plans on the
+subject of matrimony were not at present in such an advanced stage as
+Mrs. Hoopington’s, but he was beginning to find his way over to
+Hoopington Hall with a frequency that was already being commented on.
+
+“He had a wretchedly thin field out again yesterday,” said Mrs.
+Hoopington.  “Why you didn’t bring one or two hunting men down with you,
+instead of that stupid Russian boy, I can’t think.”
+
+“Vladimir isn’t stupid,” protested her niece; “he’s one of the most
+amusing boys I ever met.  Just compare him for a moment with some of your
+heavy hunting men—”
+
+“Anyhow, my dear Norah, he can’t ride.”
+
+“Russians never can; but he shoots.”
+
+“Yes; and what does he shoot?  Yesterday he brought home a woodpecker in
+his game-bag.”
+
+“But he’d shot three pheasants and some rabbits as well.”
+
+“That’s no excuse for including a woodpecker in his game-bag.”
+
+“Foreigners go in for mixed bags more than we do.  A Grand Duke pots a
+vulture just as seriously as we should stalk a bustard.  Anyhow, I’ve
+explained to Vladimir that certain birds are beneath his dignity as a
+sportsman.  And as he’s only nineteen, of course, his dignity is a sure
+thing to appeal to.”
+
+Mrs. Hoopington sniffed.  Most people with whom Vladimir came in contact
+found his high spirits infectious, but his present hostess was guaranteed
+immune against infection of that sort.
+
+“I hear him coming in now,” she observed.  “I shall go and get ready for
+tea.  We’re going to have it here in the hall.  Entertain the Major if he
+comes in before I’m down, and, above all, be bright.”
+
+Norah was dependent on her aunt’s good graces for many little things that
+made life worth living, and she was conscious of a feeling of
+discomfiture because the Russian youth whom she had brought down as a
+welcome element of change in the country-house routine was not making a
+good impression.  That young gentleman, however, was supremely
+unconscious of any shortcomings, and burst into the hall, tired, and less
+sprucely groomed than usual, but distinctly radiant.  His game-bag looked
+comfortably full.
+
+“Guess what I have shot,” he demanded.
+
+“Pheasants, woodpigeons, rabbits,” hazarded Norah.
+
+“No; a large beast; I don’t know what you call it in English.  Brown,
+with a darkish tail.”  Norah changed colour.
+
+“Does it live in a tree and eat nuts?” she asked, hoping that the use of
+the adjective “large” might be an exaggeration.
+
+Vladimir laughed.
+
+“Oh no; not a _biyelka_.”
+
+“Does it swim and eat fish?” asked Norah, with a fervent prayer in her
+heart that it might turn out to be an otter.
+
+“No,” said Vladimir, busy with the straps of his game-bag; “it lives in
+the woods, and eats rabbits and chickens.”
+
+Norah sat down suddenly, and hid her face in her hands.
+
+“Merciful Heaven!” she wailed; “he’s shot a fox!”
+
+Vladimir looked up at her in consternation.  In a torrent of agitated
+words she tried to explain the horror of the situation.  The boy
+understood nothing, but was thoroughly alarmed.
+
+“Hide it, hide it!” said Norah frantically, pointing to the still
+unopened bag.  “My aunt and the Major will be here in a moment.  Throw it
+on the top of that chest; they won’t see it there.”
+
+Vladimir swung the bag with fair aim; but the strap caught in its flight
+on the outstanding point of an antler fixed in the wall, and the bag,
+with its terrible burden, remained suspended just above the alcove where
+tea would presently be laid.  At that moment Mrs. Hoopington and the
+Major entered the hall.
+
+“The Major is going to draw our covers to-morrow,” announced the lady,
+with a certain heavy satisfaction.  “Smithers is confident that we’ll be
+able to show him some sport; he swears he’s seen a fox in the nut copse
+three times this week.”
+
+“I’m sure I hope so; I hope so,” said the Major moodily.  “I must break
+this sequence of blank days.  One hears so often that a fox has settled
+down as a tenant for life in certain covers, and then when you go to turn
+him out there isn’t a trace of him.  I’m certain a fox was shot or
+trapped in Lady Widden’s woods the very day before we drew them.”
+
+“Major, if any one tried that game on in my woods they’d get short
+shrift,” said Mrs. Hoopington.
+
+Norah found her way mechanically to the tea-table and made her fingers
+frantically busy in rearranging the parsley round the sandwich dish.  On
+one side of her loomed the morose countenance of the Major, on the other
+she was conscious of the scared, miserable eyes of Vladimir.  And above
+it all hung _that_.  She dared not raise her eyes above the level of the
+tea-table, and she almost expected to see a spot of accusing vulpine
+blood drip down and stain the whiteness of the cloth.  Her aunt’s manner
+signalled to her the repeated message to “be bright”; for the present she
+was fully occupied in keeping her teeth from chattering.
+
+“What did you shoot to-day?” asked Mrs. Hoopington suddenly of the
+unusually silent Vladimir.
+
+“Nothing—nothing worth speaking of,” said the boy.
+
+Norah’s heart, which had stood still for a space, made up for lost time
+with a most disturbing bound.
+
+“I wish you’d find something that was worth speaking about,” said the
+hostess; “every one seems to have lost their tongues.”
+
+“When did Smithers last see that fox?” said the Major.
+
+“Yesterday morning; a fine dog-fox, with a dark brush,” confided Mrs.
+Hoopington.
+
+“Aha, we’ll have a good gallop after that brush to-morrow,” said the
+Major, with a transient gleam of good humour.  And then gloomy silence
+settled again round the tea-table, a silence broken only by despondent
+munchings and the occasional feverish rattle of a teaspoon in its saucer.
+A diversion was at last afforded by Mrs. Hoopington’s fox-terrier, which
+had jumped on to a vacant chair, the better to survey the delicacies of
+the table, and was now sniffing in an upward direction at something
+apparently more interesting than cold tea-cake.
+
+“What is exciting him?” asked his mistress, as the dog suddenly broke
+into short angry barks, with a running accompaniment of tremulous whines.
+
+“Why,” she continued, “it’s your game-bag, Vladimir!  What _have_ you got
+in it?”
+
+“By Gad,” said the Major, who was now standing up; “there’s a pretty warm
+scent!”
+
+And then a simultaneous idea flashed on himself and Mrs. Hoopington.
+Their faces flushed to distinct but harmonious tones of purple, and with
+one accusing voice they screamed, “You’ve shot the fox!”
+
+Norah tried hastily to palliate Vladimir’s misdeed in their eyes, but it
+is doubtful whether they heard her.  The Major’s fury clothed and
+reclothed itself in words as frantically as a woman up in town for one
+day’s shopping tries on a succession of garments.  He reviled and railed
+at fate and the general scheme of things, he pitied himself with a
+strong, deep pity too poignent for tears, he condemned every one with
+whom he had ever come in contact to endless and abnormal punishments.  In
+fact, he conveyed the impression that if a destroying angel had been lent
+to him for a week it would have had very little time for private study.
+In the lulls of his outcry could be heard the querulous monotone of Mrs.
+Hoopington and the sharp staccato barking of the fox-terrier.  Vladimir,
+who did not understand a tithe of what was being said, sat fondling a
+cigarette and repeating under his breath from time to time a vigorous
+English adjective which he had long ago taken affectionately into his
+vocabulary.  His mind strayed back to the youth in the old Russian
+folk-tale who shot an enchanted bird with dramatic results.  Meanwhile,
+the Major, roaming round the hall like an imprisoned cyclone, had caught
+sight of and joyfully pounced on the telephone apparatus, and lost no
+time in ringing up the hunt secretary and announcing his resignation of
+the Mastership.  A servant had by this time brought his horse round to
+the door, and in a few seconds Mrs. Hoopington’s shrill monotone had the
+field to itself.  But after the Major’s display her best efforts at vocal
+violence missed their full effect; it was as though one had come straight
+out from a Wagner opera into a rather tame thunderstorm.  Realising,
+perhaps, that her tirades were something of an anticlimax, Mrs.
+Hoopington broke suddenly into some rather necessary tears and marched
+out of the room, leaving behind her a silence almost as terrible as the
+turmoil which had preceded it.
+
+“What shall I do with—_that_?” asked Vladimir at last.
+
+“Bury it,” said Norah.
+
+“Just plain burial?” said Vladimir, rather relieved.  He had almost
+expected that some of the local clergy would have insisted on being
+present, or that a salute might have to be fired over the grave.
+
+And thus it came to pass that in the dusk of a November evening the
+Russian boy, murmuring a few of the prayers of his Church for luck, gave
+hasty but decent burial to a large polecat under the lilac trees at
+Hoopington.
+
+
+
+
+THE STRATEGIST
+
+
+Mrs. Jallatt’s young people’s parties were severely exclusive; it came
+cheaper that way, because you could ask fewer to them.  Mrs. Jallatt
+didn’t study cheapness, but somehow she generally attained it.
+
+“There’ll be about ten girls,” speculated Rollo, as he drove to the
+function, “and I suppose four fellows, unless the Wrotsleys bring their
+cousin, which Heaven forbid.  That would mean Jack and me against three
+of them.”
+
+Rollo and the Wrotsley brethren had maintained an undying feud almost
+from nursery days.  They only met now and then in the holidays, and the
+meeting was usually tragic for whichever happened to have the fewest
+backers on hand.  Rollo was counting to-night on the presence of a
+devoted and muscular partisan to hold an even balance.  As he arrived he
+heard his prospective champion’s sister apologising to the hostess for
+the unavoidable absence of her brother; a moment later he noted that the
+Wrotsleys _had_ brought their cousin.
+
+Two against three would have been exciting and possibly unpleasant; one
+against three promised to be about as amusing as a visit to the dentist.
+Rollo ordered his carriage for as early as was decently possible, and
+faced the company with a smile that he imagined the better sort of
+aristocrat would have worn when mounting to the guillotine.
+
+“So glad you were able to come,” said the elder Wrotsley heartily.
+
+“Now, you children will like to play games, I suppose,” said Mrs.
+Jallatt, by way of giving things a start, and as they were too well-bred
+to contradict her there only remained the question of what they were to
+play at.
+
+“I know of a good game,” said the elder Wrotsley innocently.  “The
+fellows leave the room and think of a word; then they come back again,
+and the girls have to find out what the word is.”
+
+Rollo knew the game.  He would have suggested it himself if his faction
+had been in the majority.
+
+“It doesn’t promise to be very exciting,” sniffed the superior Dolores
+Sneep as the boys filed out of the room.  Rollo thought differently.  He
+trusted to Providence that Wrotsley had nothing worse than knotted
+handkerchiefs at his disposal.
+
+The word-choosers locked themselves in the library to ensure that their
+deliberations should not be interrupted.  Providence turned out to be not
+even decently neutral; on a rack on the library wall were a dog-whip and
+a whalebone riding-switch.  Rollo thought it criminal negligence to leave
+such weapons of precision lying about.  He was given a choice of evils,
+and chose the dog-whip; the next minute or so he spent in wondering how
+he could have made such a stupid selection.  Then they went back to the
+languidly expectant females.
+
+“The word’s ‘camel,’” announced the Wrotsley cousin blunderingly.
+
+“You stupid!” screamed the girls, “we’ve got to _guess_ the word.  Now
+you’ll have to go back and think of another.”
+
+“Not for worlds,” said Rollo; “I mean, the word isn’t really camel; we
+were rotting.  Pretend it’s dromedary!” he whispered to the others.
+
+“I heard them say ‘dromedary’!  I heard them.  I don’t care what you say;
+I heard them,” squealed the odious Dolores.  “With ears as long as hers
+one would hear anything,” thought Rollo savagely.
+
+“We shall have to go back, I suppose,” said the elder Wrotsley
+resignedly.
+
+The conclave locked itself once more into the library.  “Look here, I’m
+not going through that dog-whip business again,” protested Rollo.
+
+“Certainly not, dear,” said the elder Wrotsley; “we’ll try the whalebone
+switch this time, and you’ll know which hurts most.  It’s only by
+personal experience that one finds out these things.”
+
+It was swiftly borne in upon Rollo that his earlier selection of the
+dog-whip had been a really sound one.  The conclave gave his under-lip
+time to steady itself while it debated the choice of the necessary word.
+“Mustang” was no good, as half the girls wouldn’t know what it meant;
+finally “quagga” was pitched on.
+
+“You must come and sit down over here,” chorused the investigating
+committee on their return; but Rollo was obdurate in insisting that the
+questioned person always stood up.  On the whole, it was a relief when
+the game was ended and supper was announced.
+
+Mrs. Jallatt did not stint her young guests, but the more expensive
+delicacies of her supper-table were never unnecessarily duplicated, and
+it was usually good policy to take what you wanted while it was still
+there.  On this occasion she had provided sixteen peaches to “go round”
+among fourteen children; it was really not her fault that the two
+Wrotsleys and their cousin, foreseeing the long foodless drive home, had
+each quietly pocketed an extra peach, but it was distinctly trying for
+Dolores and the fat and good-natured Agnes Blaik to be left with one
+peach between them.
+
+“I suppose we had better halve it,” said Dolores sourly.
+
+But Agnes was fat first and good-natured afterwards; those were her
+guiding principles in life.  She was profuse in her sympathy for Dolores,
+but she hastily devoured the peach, explaining that it would spoil it to
+divide it; the juice ran out so.
+
+“Now what would you all like to do?” demanded Mrs. Jallatt by way of
+diversion.  “The professional conjurer whom I had engaged has failed me
+at the last moment.  Can any of you recite?”
+
+There were symptoms of a general panic.  Dolores was known to recite
+“Locksley Hall” on the least provocation.  There had been occasions when
+her opening line, “Comrades, leave me here a little,” had been taken as a
+literal injunction by a large section of her hearers.  There was a murmur
+of relief when Rollo hastily declared that he could do a few conjuring
+tricks.  He had never done one in his life, but those two visits to the
+library had goaded him to unusual recklessness.
+
+“You’ve seen conjuring chaps take coins and cards out of people,” he
+announced; “well, I’m going to take more interesting things out of some
+of you.  Mice, for instance.”
+
+“Not mice!”
+
+A shrill protest rose, as he had foreseen, from the majority of his
+audience.
+
+“Well, fruit, them.”
+
+The amended proposal was received with approval.  Agnes positively
+beamed.
+
+Without more ado Rollo made straight for his trio of enemies, plunged his
+hand successively into their breast-pockets, and produced three peaches.
+There was no applause, but no amount of hand-clapping would have given
+the performer as much pleasure as the silence which greeted his coup.
+
+“Of course, we were in the know,” said the Wrotsley cousin lamely.
+
+“That’s done it,” chuckled Rollo to himself.
+
+“If they _had_ been confederates they would have sworn they knew nothing
+about it,” said Dolores, with piercing conviction.
+
+“Do you know any more tricks?” asked Mrs. Jallatt hurriedly.
+
+Rollo did not.  He hinted that he might have changed the three peaches
+into something else, but Agnes had already converted one into girl-food,
+so nothing more could be done in that direction.
+
+“I know a game,” said the elder Wrotsley heavily, “where the fellows go
+out of the room, and think of some character in history; then they come
+back and act him, and the girls have to guess who it’s meant for.”
+
+“I’m afraid I must be going,” said Rollo to his hostess.
+
+“Your carriage won’t be here for another twenty minutes,” said Mrs.
+Jallatt.
+
+“It’s such a fine evening I think I’ll walk and meet it.”
+
+“It’s raining rather steadily at present.  You’ve just time to play that
+historical game.”
+
+“We haven’t heard Dolores recite,” said Rollo desperately; as soon as he
+had said it he realised his mistake.  Confronted with the alternative of
+“Locksley Hall,” public opinion declared unanimously for the history
+game.
+
+Rollo played his last card.  In an undertone meant apparently for the
+Wrotsley boy, but carefully pitched to reach Agnes, he observed—
+
+“All right, old man; we’ll go and finish those chocolates we left in the
+library.”
+
+“I think it’s only fair that the girls should take their turn in going
+out,” exclaimed Agnes briskly.  She was great on fairness.
+
+“Nonsense,” said the others; “there are too many of us.”
+
+“Well, four of us can go.  I’ll be one of them.”
+
+And Agnes darted off towards the library, followed by three less eager
+damsels.
+
+Rollo sank into a chair and smiled ever so faintly at the Wrotsleys, just
+a momentary baring of the teeth; an otter, escaping from the fangs of the
+hounds into the safety of a deep pool, might have given a similar
+demonstration of feelings.
+
+From the library came the sound of moving furniture.  Agnes was leaving
+nothing unturned in her quest for the mythical chocolates.  And then came
+a more blessed sound, wheels crunching wet gravel.
+
+“It has been a most enjoyable evening,” said Rollo to his hostess.
+
+
+
+
+CROSS CURRENTS
+
+
+Vanessa Pennington had a husband who was poor, with few extenuating
+circumstances, and an admirer who, though comfortably rich, was cumbered
+with a sense of honour.  His wealth made him welcome in Vanessa’s eyes,
+but his code of what was right impelled him to go away and forget her, or
+at the most to think of her in the intervals of doing a great many other
+things.  And although Alaric Clyde loved Vanessa, and thought he should
+always go on loving her, he gradually and unconsciously allowed himself
+to be wooed and won by a more alluring mistress; he fancied that his
+continued shunning of the haunts of men was a self-imposed exile, but his
+heart was caught in the spell of the Wilderness, and the Wilderness was
+kind and beautiful to him.  When one is young and strong and unfettered
+the wild earth can be very kind and very beautiful.  Witness the legion
+of men who were once young and unfettered and now eat out their souls in
+dustbins, because, having erstwhile known and loved the Wilderness, they
+broke from her thrall and turned aside into beaten paths.
+
+In the high waste places of the world Clyde roamed and hunted and
+dreamed, death-dealing and gracious as some god of Hellas, moving with
+his horses and servants and four-footed camp followers from one dwelling
+ground to another, a welcome guest among wild primitive village folk and
+nomads, a friend and slayer of the fleet, shy beasts around him.  By the
+shores of misty upland lakes he shot the wild fowl that had winged their
+way to him across half the old world; beyond Bokhara he watched the wild
+Aryan horsemen at their gambols; watched, too, in some dim-lit tea-house
+one of those beautiful uncouth dances that one can never wholly forget;
+or, making a wide cast down to the valley of the Tigris, swam and rolled
+in its snow-cooled racing waters.  Vanessa, meanwhile, in a Bayswater
+back street, was making out the weekly laundry list, attending bargain
+sales, and, in her more adventurous moments, trying new ways of cooking
+whiting.  Occasionally she went to bridge parties, where, if the play was
+not illuminating, at least one learned a great deal about the private
+life of some of the Royal and Imperial Houses.  Vanessa, in a way, was
+glad that Clyde had done the proper thing.  She had a strong natural bias
+towards respectability, though she would have preferred to have been
+respectable in smarter surroundings, where her example would have done
+more good.  To be beyond reproach was one thing, but it would have been
+nicer to have been nearer to the Park.
+
+And then of a sudden her regard for respectability and Clyde’s sense of
+what was right were thrown on the scrap-heap of unnecessary things.  They
+had been useful and highly important in their time, but the death of
+Vanessa’s husband made them of no immediate moment.
+
+The news of the altered condition of things followed Clyde with leisurely
+persistence from one place of call to another, and at last ran him to a
+standstill somewhere in the Orenburg Steppe.  He would have found it
+exceedingly difficult to analyse his feelings on receipt of the tidings.
+The Fates had unexpectedly (and perhaps just a little officiously)
+removed an obstacle from his path.  He supposed he was overjoyed, but he
+missed the feeling of elation which he had experienced some four months
+ago when he had bagged a snow-leopard with a lucky shot after a day’s
+fruitless stalking.  Of course he would go back and ask Vanessa to marry
+him, but he was determined on enforcing a condition; on no account would
+he desert his newer love.  Vanessa would have to agree to come out into
+the Wilderness with him.
+
+The lady hailed the return of her lover with even more relief than had
+been occasioned by his departure.  The death of John Pennington had left
+his widow in circumstances which were more straitened than ever, and the
+Park had receded even from her notepaper, where it had long been retained
+as a courtesy title on the principle that addresses are given to us to
+conceal our whereabouts.  Certainly she was more independent now than
+heretofore, but independence, which means so much to many women, was of
+little account to Vanessa, who came under the heading of the mere female.
+She made little ado about accepting Clyde’s condition, and announced
+herself ready to follow him to the end of the world; as the world was
+round she nourished a complacent idea that in the ordinary course of
+things one would find oneself in the neighbourhood of Hyde Park Corner
+sooner or later no matter how far afield one wandered.
+
+East of Budapest her complacency began to filter away, and when she saw
+her husband treating the Black Sea with a familiarity which she had never
+been able to assume towards the English Channel, misgivings began to
+crowd in upon her.  Adventures which would have presented an amusing and
+enticing aspect to a better-bred woman aroused in Vanessa only the twin
+sensations of fright and discomfort.  Flies bit her, and she was
+persuaded that it was only sheer boredom that prevented camels from doing
+the same.  Clyde did his best, and a very good best it was, to infuse
+something of the banquet into their prolonged desert picnics, but even
+snow-cooled Heidsieck lost its flavour when you were convinced that the
+dusky cupbearer who served it with such reverent elegance was only
+waiting a convenient opportunity to cut your throat.  It was useless for
+Clyde to give Yussuf a character for devotion such as is rarely found in
+any Western servant.  Vanessa was well enough educated to know that all
+dusky-skinned people take human life as unconcernedly as Bayswater folk
+take singing lessons.
+
+And with a growing irritation and querulousness on her part came a
+further disenchantment, born of the inability of husband and wife to find
+a common ground of interest.  The habits and migrations of the sand
+grouse, the folklore and customs of Tartars and Turkomans, the points of
+a Cossack pony—these were matter which evoked only a bored indifference
+in Vanessa.  On the other hand, Clyde was not thrilled on being informed
+that the Queen of Spain detested mauve, or that a certain Royal duchess,
+for whose tastes he was never likely to be called on to cater, nursed a
+violent but perfectly respectable passion for beef olives.
+
+Vanessa began to arrive at the conclusion that a husband who added a
+roving disposition to a settled income was a mixed blessing.  It was one
+thing to go to the end of the world; it was quite another thing to make
+oneself at home there.  Even respectability seemed to lose some of its
+virtue when one practised it in a tent.
+
+Bored and disillusioned with the drift of her new life, Vanessa was
+undisguisedly glad when distraction offered itself in the person of Mr.
+Dobrinton, a chance acquaintance whom they had first run against in the
+primitive hostelry of a benighted Caucasian town.  Dobrinton was
+elaborately British, in deference perhaps to the memory of his mother,
+who was said to have derived part of her origin from an English governess
+who had come to Lemberg a long way back in the last century.  If you had
+called him Dobrinski when off his guard he would probably have responded
+readily enough; holding, no doubt, that the end crowns all, he had taken
+a slight liberty with the family patronymic.  To look at, Mr. Dobrinton
+was not a very attractive specimen of masculine humanity, but in
+Vanessa’s eyes he was a link with that civilisation which Clyde seemed so
+ready to ignore and forgo.  He could sing “Yip-I-Addy” and spoke of
+several duchesses as if he knew them—in his more inspired moments almost
+as if they knew him.  He even pointed out blemishes in the cuisine or
+cellar departments of some of the more august London restaurants, a
+species of Higher Criticism which was listened to by Vanessa in
+awe-stricken admiration.  And, above all, he sympathised, at first
+discreetly, afterwards with more latitude, with her fretful discontent at
+Clyde’s nomadic instincts.  Business connected with oil-wells had brought
+Dobrinton to the neighbourhood of Baku; the pleasure of appealing to an
+appreciative female audience induced him to deflect his return journey so
+as to coincide a good deal with his new aquaintances’ line of march.  And
+while Clyde trafficked with Persian horse-dealers or hunted the wild grey
+pigs in their lairs and added to his notes on Central Asian game-fowl,
+Dobrinton and the lady discussed the ethics of desert respectability from
+points of view that showed a daily tendency to converge.  And one evening
+Clyde dined alone, reading between the courses a long letter from
+Vanessa, justifying her action in flitting to more civilised lands with a
+more congenial companion.
+
+It was distinctly evil luck for Vanessa, who really was thoroughly
+respectable at heart, that she and her lover should run into the hands of
+Kurdish brigands on the first day of their flight.  To be mewed up in a
+squalid Kurdish village in close companionship with a man who was only
+your husband by adoption, and to have the attention of all Europe drawn
+to your plight, was about the least respectable thing that could happen.
+And there were international complications, which made things worse.
+“English lady and her husband, of foreign nationality, held by Kurdish
+brigands who demand ransom” had been the report of the nearest Consul.
+Although Dobrinton was British at heart, the other portions of him
+belonged to the Habsburgs, and though the Habsburgs took no great pride
+or pleasure in this particular unit of their wide and varied possessions,
+and would gladly have exchanged him for some interesting bird or mammal
+for the Schoenbrunn Park, the code of international dignity demanded that
+they should display a decent solicitude for his restoration.  And while
+the Foreign Offices of the two countries were taking the usual steps to
+secure the release of their respective subjects a further horrible
+complication ensued.  Clyde, following on the track of the fugitives, not
+with any special desire to overtake them, but with a dim feeling that it
+was expected of him, fell into the hands of the same community of
+brigands.  Diplomacy, while anxious to do its best for a lady in
+misfortune, showed signs of becoming restive at this expansion of its
+task; as a frivolous young gentleman in Downing Street remarked, “Any
+husband of Mrs. Dobrinton’s we shall be glad to extricate, but let us
+know how many there are of them.”  For a woman who valued respectability
+Vanessa really had no luck.
+
+Meanwhile the situation of the captives was not free from embarrassment.
+When Clyde explained to the Kurdish headmen the nature of his
+relationship with the runaway couple they were gravely sympathetic, but
+vetoed any idea of summary vengeance, since the Habsburgs would be sure
+to insist on the delivery of Dobrinton alive, and in a reasonably
+undamaged condition.  They did not object to Clyde administering a
+beating to his rival for half an hour every Monday and Thursday, but
+Dobrinton turned such a sickly green when he heard of this arrangement
+that the chief was obliged to withdraw the concession.
+
+And so, in the cramped quarters of a mountain hut, the ill-assorted trio
+watched the insufferable hours crawl slowly by.  Dobrinton was too
+frightened to be conversational, Vanessa was too mortified to open her
+lips, and Clyde was moodily silent.  The little Limberg _négociant_
+plucked up heart once to give a quavering rendering of “Yip-I-Addy,” but
+when he reached the statement “home was never like this” Vanessa
+tearfully begged him to stop.  And silence fastened itself with growing
+insistence on the three captives who were so tragically herded together;
+thrice a day they drew near to one another to swallow the meal that had
+been prepared for them, like desert beasts meeting in mute suspended
+hostility at the drinking pool, and then drew back to resume the vigil of
+waiting.
+
+Clyde was less carefully watched than the others.  “Jealousy will keep
+him to the woman’s side,” thought his Kurdish captors.  They did not know
+that his wilder, truer love was calling to him with a hundred voices from
+beyond the village bounds.  And one evening, finding that he was not
+getting the attention to which he was entitled, Clyde slipped away down
+the mountain side and resumed his study of Central Asian game-fowl.  The
+remaining captives were guarded henceforth with greater rigour, but
+Dobrinton at any rate scarcely regretted Clyde’s departure.
+
+The long arm, or perhaps one might better say the long purse, of
+diplomacy at last effected the release of the prisoners, but the
+Habsburgs were never to enjoy the guerdon of their outlay.  On the quay
+of the little Black Sea port, where the rescued pair came once more into
+contact with civilisation, Dobrinton was bitten by a dog which was
+assumed to be mad, though it may only have been indiscriminating.  The
+victim did not wait for symptoms of rabies to declare themselves, but
+died forthwith of fright, and Vanessa made the homeward journey alone,
+conscious somehow of a sense of slightly restored respectability.  Clyde,
+in the intervals of correcting the proofs of his book on the game-fowl of
+Central Asia, found time to press a divorce suit through the Courts, and
+as soon as possible hied him away to the congenial solitudes of the Gobi
+Desert to collect material for a work on the fauna of that region.
+Vanessa, by virtue perhaps of her earlier intimacy with the cooking rites
+of the whiting, obtained a place on the kitchen staff of a West End club.
+It was not brilliant, but at least it was within two minutes of the Park.
+
+
+
+
+THE BAKER’S DOZEN
+
+
+_Characters_—
+
+  Major Richard Dumbarton.
+
+  Mrs. Carewe.
+
+  Mrs. Paly-Paget.
+
+_Scene_—Deck of eastward-bound steamer.  Major Dumbarton seated on
+deck-chair, another chair by his side, with the name “Mrs. Carewe”
+painted on it, a third near by.
+
+(Enter R. Mrs. Carewe, seats herself leisurely in her deck-chair, the
+Major affecting to ignore her presence.)
+
+_Major_ (turning suddenly): Emily!  After all these years!  This is fate!
+
+_Em._: Fate!  Nothing of the sort; it’s only me.  You men are always such
+fatalists.  I deferred my departure three whole weeks, in order to come
+out in the same boat that I saw you were travelling by.  I bribed the
+steward to put out chairs side by side in an unfrequented corner, and I
+took enormous pains to be looking particularly attractive this morning,
+and then you say “This is fate.”  I am looking particularly attractive,
+am I not?
+
+_Maj._: More than ever.  Time has only added a ripeness to your charms.
+
+_Em._: I knew you’d put it exactly in those words.  The phraseology of
+love-making is awfully limited, isn’t it?  After all, the chief charm is
+in the fact of being made love to.  You _are_ making love to me, aren’t
+you?
+
+_Maj._: Emily dearest, I had already begun making advances, even before
+you sat down here.  I also bribed the steward to put our seats together
+in a secluded corner.  “You may consider it done, sir,” was his reply.
+That was immediately after breakfast.
+
+_Em._: How like a man to have his breakfast first.  I attended to the
+seat business as soon as I left my cabin.
+
+_Maj._: Don’t be unreasonable.  It was only at breakfast that I
+discovered your blessed presence on the boat.  I paid violent and unusual
+attention to a flapper all through the meal in order to make you jealous.
+She’s probably in her cabin writing reams about me to a fellow-flapper at
+this very moment.
+
+_Em._: You needn’t have taken all that trouble to make me jealous,
+Dickie.  You did that years ago, when you married another woman.
+
+_Maj._: Well, you had gone and married another man—a widower, too, at
+that.
+
+_Em._: Well, there’s no particular harm in marrying a widower, I suppose.
+I’m ready to do it again, if I meet a really nice one.
+
+_Maj._: Look here, Emily, it’s not fair to go at that rate.  You’re a lap
+ahead of me the whole time.  It’s my place to propose to you; all you’ve
+got to do is to say “Yes.”
+
+_Em._: Well, I’ve practically said it already, so we needn’t dawdle over
+that part.
+
+_Maj._: Oh, well—
+
+(They look at each other, then suddenly embrace with considerable
+energy.)
+
+_Maj._: We dead-heated it that time.  (Suddenly jumping to his feet) Oh,
+d--- I’d forgotten!
+
+_Em._: Forgotten what?
+
+_Maj._: The children.  I ought to have told you.  Do you mind children?
+
+_Em._: Not in moderate quantities.  How many have you got?
+
+_Maj._ (counting hurriedly on his fingers): Five.
+
+_Em._: Five!
+
+_Maj._ (anxiously): Is that too many?
+
+_Em._: It’s rather a number.  The worst of it is, I’ve some myself.
+
+_Maj._: Many?
+
+_Em._: Eight.
+
+_Maj._: Eight in six years!  Oh, Emily!
+
+_Em._: Only four were my own.  The other four were by my husband’s first
+marriage.  Still, that practically makes eight.
+
+_Maj._: And eight and five make thirteen.  We can’t start our married
+life with thirteen children; it would be most unlucky.  (Walks up and
+down in agitation.)  Some way must be found out of this.  If we could
+only bring them down to twelve.  Thirteen is so horribly unlucky.
+
+_Em._: Isn’t there some way by which we could part with one or two? Don’t
+the French want more children?  I’ve often seen articles about it in the
+_Figaro_.
+
+_Maj._: I fancy they want French children.  Mine don’t even speak French.
+
+_Em._: There’s always a chance that one of them might turn out depraved
+and vicious, and then you could disown him.  I’ve heard of that being
+done.
+
+_Maj._: But, good gracious, you’ve got to educate him first.  You can’t
+expect a boy to be vicious till he’s been to a good school.
+
+_Em._: Why couldn’t he be naturally depraved?  Lots of boys are.
+
+_Maj._: Only when they inherit it from depraved parents.  You don’t
+suppose there’s any depravity in me, do you?
+
+_Em._: It sometimes skips a generation, you know.  Weren’t any of your
+family bad?
+
+_Maj._: There was an aunt who was never spoken of.
+
+_Em._: There you are!
+
+_Maj._: But one can’t build too much on that.  In mid-Victorian days they
+labelled all sorts of things as unspeakable that we should speak about
+quite tolerantly.  I dare say this particular aunt had only married a
+Unitarian, or rode to hounds on both sides of her horse, or something of
+that sort.  Anyhow, we can’t wait indefinitely for one of the children to
+take after a doubtfully depraved great-aunt.  Something else must be
+thought of.
+
+_Em._: Don’t people ever adopt children from other families?
+
+_Maj._: I’ve heard of it being done by childless couples, and those sort
+of people—
+
+_Em._: Hush!  Some one’s coming.  Who is it?
+
+_Maj._: Mrs. Paly-Paget.
+
+_Em._: The very person!
+
+_Maj._: What, to adopt a child?  Hasn’t she got any?
+
+_Em._: Only one miserable hen-baby.
+
+_Maj._: Let’s sound her on the subject.
+
+(Enter Mrs. Paly-Paget, R.)
+
+Ah, good morning.  Mrs. Paly-Paget.  I was just wondering at breakfast
+where did we meet last?
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: At the Criterion, wasn’t it?
+
+(Drops into vacant chair.)
+
+_Maj._: At the Criterion, of course.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: I was dining with Lord and Lady Slugford.  Charming people,
+but so mean.  They took us afterwards to the Velodrome, to see some
+dancer interpreting Mendelssohn’s “song without clothes.” We were all
+packed up in a little box near the roof, and you may imagine how hot it
+was.  It was like a Turkish bath.  And, of course, one couldn’t see
+anything.
+
+_Maj._: Then it was not like a Turkish bath.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Major!
+
+_Em._: We were just talking of you when you joined us.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Really!  Nothing very dreadful, I hope.
+
+_Em._: Oh dear, no!  It’s too early on the voyage for that sort of thing.
+We were feeling rather sorry for you.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Sorry for me?  Whatever for?
+
+_Maj._: Your childless hearth and all that, you know.  No little
+pattering feet.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Major!  How dare you?  I’ve got my little girl, I suppose
+you know.  Her feet can patter as well as other children’s.
+
+_Maj._: Only one pair of feet.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Certainly.  My child isn’t a centipede.  Considering the
+way they move us about in those horrid jungle stations, without a decent
+bungalow to set one’s foot in, I consider I’ve got a hearthless child,
+rather than a childless hearth.  Thank you for your sympathy all the
+same.  I dare say it was well meant.  Impertinence often is.
+
+_Em._: Dear Mrs. Paly-Paget, we were only feeling sorry for your sweet
+little girl when she grows older, you know.  No little brothers and
+sisters to play with.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Mrs. Carewe, this conversation strikes me as being
+indelicate, to say the least of it.  I’ve only been married two and a
+half years, and my family is naturally a small one.
+
+_Maj._: Isn’t it rather an exaggeration to talk of one little female
+child as a family?  A family suggests numbers.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Really, Major, you language is extraordinary.  I dare say
+I’ve only got a little female child, as you call it, at present—
+
+_Maj._: Oh, it won’t change into a boy later on, if that’s what you’re
+counting on.  Take our word for it; we’ve had so much more experience in
+these affairs than you have.  Once a female, always a female.  Nature is
+not infallible, but she always abides by her mistakes.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._ (rising): Major Dumbarton, these boats are uncomfortably
+small, but I trust we shall find ample accommodation for avoiding each
+other’s society during the rest of the voyage.  The same wish applies to
+you, Mrs. Carewe.
+
+(Exit Mrs. Paly-Paget, L.)
+
+_Maj._: What an unnatural mother!  (Sinks into chair.)
+
+_Em._: I wouldn’t trust a child with any one who had a temper like hers.
+Oh, Dickie, why did you go and have such a large family?  You always said
+you wanted me to be the mother of your children.
+
+_Maj._: I wasn’t going to wait while you were founding and fostering
+dynasties in other directions.  Why you couldn’t be content to have
+children of your own, without collecting them like batches of postage
+stamps I can’t think.  The idea of marrying a man with four children!
+
+_Em._: Well, you’re asking me to marry one with five.
+
+_Maj._: Five!  (Springing to his feet)  Did I say five?
+
+_Em._: You certainly said five.
+
+_Maj._: Oh, Emily, supposing I’ve miscounted them!  Listen now, keep
+count with me.  Richard—that’s after me, of course.
+
+_Em._: One.
+
+_Maj._: Albert-Victor—that must have been in Coronation year.
+
+_Em._: Two!
+
+_Maj._: Maud.  She’s called after—
+
+_Em._: Never mind who’s she’s called after.  Three!
+
+_Maj._: And Gerald.
+
+_Em._: Four!
+
+_Maj._: That’s the lot.
+
+_Em._: Are you sure?
+
+_Maj._: I swear that’s the lot.  I must have counted Albert-Victor as
+two.
+
+_Em._: Richard!
+
+_Maj._: Emily!
+
+                             (They embrace.)
+
+
+
+
+THE MOUSE
+
+
+Theodoric Voler had been brought up, from infancy to the confines of
+middle age, by a fond mother whose chief solicitude had been to keep him
+screened from what she called the coarser realities of life.  When she
+died she left Theodoric alone in a world that was as real as ever, and a
+good deal coarser than he considered it had any need to be.  To a man of
+his temperament and upbringing even a simple railway journey was crammed
+with petty annoyances and minor discords, and as he settled himself down
+in a second-class compartment one September morning he was conscious of
+ruffled feelings and general mental discomposure.  He had been staying at
+a country vicarage, the inmates of which had been certainly neither
+brutal nor bacchanalian, but their supervision of the domestic
+establishment had been of that lax order which invites disaster.  The
+pony carriage that was to take him to the station had never been properly
+ordered, and when the moment for his departure drew near the handy-man
+who should have produced the required article was nowhere to be found.
+In this emergency Theodoric, to his mute but very intense disgust, found
+himself obliged to collaborate with the vicar’s daughter in the task of
+harnessing the pony, which necessitated groping about in an ill-lighted
+outhouse called a stable, and smelling very like one—except in patches
+where it smelt of mice.  Without being actually afraid of mice, Theodoric
+classed them among the coarser incidents of life, and considered that
+Providence, with a little exercise of moral courage, might long ago have
+recognised that they were not indispensable, and have withdrawn them from
+circulation.  As the train glided out of the station Theodoric’s nervous
+imagination accused himself of exhaling a weak odour of stable-yard, and
+possibly of displaying a mouldy straw or two on his usually well-brushed
+garments.  Fortunately the only other occupant of the compartment, a lady
+of about the same age as himself, seemed inclined for slumber rather than
+scrutiny; the train was not due to stop till the terminus was reached, in
+about an hour’s time, and the carriage was of the old-fashioned sort,
+that held no communication with a corridor, therefore no further
+travelling companions were likely to intrude on Theodoric’s semi-privacy.
+And yet the train had scarcely attained its normal speed before he became
+reluctantly but vividly aware that he was not alone with the slumbering
+lady; he was not even alone in his own clothes.  A warm, creeping
+movement over his flesh betrayed the unwelcome and highly resented
+presence, unseen but poignant, of a strayed mouse, that had evidently
+dashed into its present retreat during the episode of the pony
+harnessing.  Furtive stamps and shakes and wildly directed pinches failed
+to dislodge the intruder, whose motto, indeed, seemed to be Excelsior;
+and the lawful occupant of the clothes lay back against the cushions and
+endeavoured rapidly to evolve some means for putting an end to the dual
+ownership.  It was unthinkable that he should continue for the space of a
+whole hour in the horrible position of a Rowton House for vagrant mice
+(already his imagination had at least doubled the numbers of the alien
+invasion).  On the other hand, nothing less drastic than partial
+disrobing would ease him of his tormentor, and to undress in the presence
+of a lady, even for so laudable a purpose, was an idea that made his
+eartips tingle in a blush of abject shame.  He had never been able to
+bring himself even to the mild exposure of open-work socks in the
+presence of the fair sex.  And yet—the lady in this case was to all
+appearances soundly and securely asleep; the mouse, on the other hand,
+seemed to be trying to crowd a Wanderjahr into a few strenuous minutes.
+If there is any truth in the theory of transmigration, this particular
+mouse must certainly have been in a former state a member of the Alpine
+Club.  Sometimes in its eagerness it lost its footing and slipped for
+half an inch or so; and then, in fright, or more probably temper, it bit.
+Theodoric was goaded into the most audacious undertaking of his life.
+Crimsoning to the hue of a beetroot and keeping an agonised watch on his
+slumbering fellow-traveller, he swiftly and noiselessly secured the ends
+of his railway-rug to the racks on either side of the carriage, so that a
+substantial curtain hung athwart the compartment.  In the narrow
+dressing-room that he had thus improvised he proceeded with violent haste
+to extricate himself partially and the mouse entirely from the
+surrounding casings of tweed and half-wool.  As the unravelled mouse gave
+a wild leap to the floor, the rug, slipping its fastening at either end,
+also came down with a heart-curdling flop, and almost simultaneously the
+awakened sleeper opened her eyes.  With a movement almost quicker than
+the mouse’s, Theodoric pounced on the rug, and hauled its ample folds
+chin-high over his dismantled person as he collapsed into the further
+corner of the carriage.  The blood raced and beat in the veins of his
+neck and forehead, while he waited dumbly for the communication-cord to
+be pulled.  The lady, however, contented herself with a silent stare at
+her strangely muffled companion.  How much had she seen, Theodoric
+queried to himself, and in any case what on earth must she think of his
+present posture?
+
+“I think I have caught a chill,” he ventured desperately.
+
+“Really, I’m sorry,” she replied.  “I was just going to ask you if you
+would open this window.”
+
+“I fancy it’s malaria,” he added, his teeth chattering slightly, as much
+from fright as from a desire to support his theory.
+
+“I’ve got some brandy in my hold-all, if you’ll kindly reach it down for
+me,” said his companion.
+
+“Not for worlds—I mean, I never take anything for it,” he assured her
+earnestly.
+
+“I suppose you caught it in the Tropics?”
+
+Theodoric, whose acquaintance with the Tropics was limited to an annual
+present of a chest of tea from an uncle in Ceylon, felt that even the
+malaria was slipping from him.  Would it be possible, he wondered, to
+disclose the real state of affairs to her in small instalments?
+
+“Are you afraid of mice?” he ventured, growing, if possible, more scarlet
+in the face.
+
+“Not unless they came in quantities, like those that ate up Bishop Hatto.
+Why do you ask?”
+
+“I had one crawling inside my clothes just now,” said Theodoric in a
+voice that hardly seemed his own.  “It was a most awkward situation.”
+
+“It must have been, if you wear your clothes at all tight,” she observed;
+“but mice have strange ideas of comfort.”
+
+“I had to get rid of it while you were asleep,” he continued; then, with
+a gulp, he added, “it was getting rid of it that brought me to—to this.”
+
+“Surely leaving off one small mouse wouldn’t bring on a chill,” she
+exclaimed, with a levity that Theodoric accounted abominable.
+
+Evidently she had detected something of his predicament, and was enjoying
+his confusion.  All the blood in his body seemed to have mobilised in one
+concentrated blush, and an agony of abasement, worse than a myriad mice,
+crept up and down over his soul.  And then, as reflection began to assert
+itself, sheer terror took the place of humiliation.  With every minute
+that passed the train was rushing nearer to the crowded and bustling
+terminus where dozens of prying eyes would be exchanged for the one
+paralysing pair that watched him from the further corner of the carriage.
+There was one slender despairing chance, which the next few minutes must
+decide.  His fellow-traveller might relapse into a blessed slumber.  But
+as the minutes throbbed by that chance ebbed away.  The furtive glance
+which Theodoric stole at her from time to time disclosed only an
+unwinking wakefulness.
+
+“I think we must be getting near now,” she presently observed.
+
+Theodoric had already noted with growing terror the recurring stacks of
+small, ugly dwellings that heralded the journey’s end.  The words acted
+as a signal.  Like a hunted beast breaking cover and dashing madly
+towards some other haven of momentary safety he threw aside his rug, and
+struggled frantically into his dishevelled garments.  He was conscious of
+dull surburban stations racing past the window, of a choking, hammering
+sensation in his throat and heart, and of an icy silence in that corner
+towards which he dared not look.  Then as he sank back in his seat,
+clothed and almost delirious, the train slowed down to a final crawl, and
+the woman spoke.
+
+“Would you be so kind,” she asked, “as to get me a porter to put me into
+a cab?  It’s a shame to trouble you when you’re feeling unwell, but being
+blind makes one so helpless at a railway station.”
+
+                               _Printed by_
+                         MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED
+                               _Edinburgh_
+
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REGINALD IN RUSSIA***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 1870-0.txt or 1870-0.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/7/1870
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/1870-0.zip b/1870-0.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f163b31
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1870-0.zip
diff --git a/1870-h.zip b/1870-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0c90cd1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1870-h.zip
diff --git a/1870-h/1870-h.htm b/1870-h/1870-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8504c73
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1870-h/1870-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,3224 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html
+     PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+     "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" />
+<title>Reginald in Russia, by Saki</title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    P {  margin-top: .75em;
+         margin-bottom: .75em;
+         }
+    P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;}
+    P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; }
+    H1, H2 {
+         text-align: center;
+		margin-top: 2em;
+		margin-bottom: 2em;
+         }
+    H3, H4, H5 {
+	text-align: center;
+	margin-top: 1em;
+	margin-bottom: 1em;
+	}
+    BODY{margin-left: 10%;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+        }
+ table { border-collapse: collapse; }
+table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;}
+    td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;}
+    td p { margin: 0.2em; }
+    .blkquot  {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */
+
+    .smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+    .pagenum {position: absolute;
+               left: 92%;
+               font-size: small;
+               text-align: right;
+		font-weight: normal;
+               color: gray;
+               }
+    img { border: none; }
+    img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; }
+    div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; }
+    div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 30%; }
+    div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%;
+                  margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid;
+                  border-bottom: 1px solid; }
+    div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%;
+                  margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid;
+                  border-bottom: 1px solid;}
+    div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%;
+		  border-top: 1px solid; }
+    .citation {vertical-align: super;
+               font-size: .8em;
+               text-decoration: none;}
+    img.floatleft { float: left;
+			margin-right: 1em;
+			margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; }
+    img.floatright { float: right;
+			margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em;
+			margin-bottom: 0.5em; }
+    img.clearcenter {display: block;
+			margin-left: auto;
+			margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em;
+			margin-bottom: 0.5em}
+    -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+    </style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Reginald in Russia, by Saki
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Reginald in Russia
+       and Other Sketches
+
+
+Author: Saki
+
+
+
+Release Date: September 12, 2010  [eBook #1870]
+First Posted: January, 8, 1999
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REGINALD IN RUSSIA***
+</pre>
+<p>This etext was prepared from the 1910 Methuen and Co. edition
+by Jane Duff; proofed by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf</p>
+<h2><!-- page ii--><a name="pageii"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+ii</span><span class="smcap">by the same author</span><br />
+REGINALD</h2>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;He is a delightful person.&nbsp; One would
+not like a rich and octogenarian uncle to suppose that Reginald
+was one&rsquo;s ideal of conduct and conversion.&nbsp; Yet there
+is sometimes reason in his paradoxical frivolities, and justice
+in his practical performances.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Morning
+Post</i>.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The book, by reason of its sustained brilliance, may be
+likened to a Brock&rsquo;s Benefit at the Crystal
+Palace.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Athen&aelig;um</i>.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. H. H. Munro (&lsquo;Saki&rsquo;) has one of the
+lightest and most entertaining touches of the humorists of the
+day . . .&nbsp; The book is admirable comedy and free from malice
+and bad taste.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Queen</i>.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We feel sure that those who have already made
+Reginald&rsquo;s acquaintance will be glad to renew it, and that
+those who know him not will not regret it if they add him to the
+list of their fictitious (albeit very real) acquaintances, not to
+say friends.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Westminster Gazette</i>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<h1><!-- page iii--><a name="pageiii"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. iii</span>REGINALD IN<br />
+RUSSIA</h1>
+<p style="text-align: center">AND OTHER SKETCHES</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br />
+SAKI<br />
+(<span class="smcap">h. h. munro</span>)</p>
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center">METHUEN &amp; CO.<br />
+36 ESSEX STREET W.C.<br />
+LONDON</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page iv--><a
+name="pageiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. iv</span><i>First
+Published in 1910</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page v--><a
+name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. v</span>TO<br />
+M. V. P.</p>
+<h2><!-- page vii--><a name="pagevii"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. vii</span>CONTENTS</h2>
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td><p>&nbsp;</p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="smcap">page</span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">Reginald in Russia</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page1">1</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Reticence of Lady Anne</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page7">7</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Lost Sanjak</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page13">13</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Sex that Doesn&rsquo;t
+Shop</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page25">25</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Blood-Feud of
+Toad-Water</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page31">31</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">A Young Turkish Catastrophe</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page38">38</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">Judkin of the Parcels</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page42">42</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">Gabriel-Ernest</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page47">47</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Saint and the Goblin</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page60">60</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Soul of Laploshka</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page66">66</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Bag</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page75">75</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Strategist</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page85">85</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">Cross Currents</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page94">94</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Baker&rsquo;s Dozen (A
+Playlet)</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page106">106</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Mouse</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page116">116</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page viii--><a
+name="pageviii"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+viii</span>&ldquo;<i>The Baker&rsquo;s Dozen</i>&rdquo;
+<i>originally appeared in</i> &ldquo;<i>The Journal of the
+Leinster Regiment</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; <i>The other sketches have
+appeared from time to time in the</i> &ldquo;<i>Westminster
+Gazette</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; <i>To the Editors of these publications
+I am indebted for courteous permission to reproduce the stories
+in their present form</i>.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 1--><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+1</span>REGINALD IN RUSSIA</h2>
+<p>Reginald sat in a corner of the Princess&rsquo;s salon and
+tried to forgive the furniture, which started out with an obvious
+intention of being Louis Quinze, but relapsed at frequent
+intervals into Wilhelm II.</p>
+<p>He classified the Princess with that distinct type of woman
+that looks as if it habitually went out to feed hens in the
+rain.</p>
+<p>Her name was Olga; she kept what she hoped and believed to be
+a fox-terrier, and professed what she thought were Socialist
+opinions.&nbsp; It is not necessary to be called Olga if you are
+a Russian Princess; in fact, Reginald knew quite a number who
+were called Vera; but the fox-terrier and the Socialism are
+essential.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Countess Lomshen keeps a bull-dog,&rdquo; said the
+Princess suddenly.&nbsp; &ldquo;In England is it more chic to
+have a bull-dog than a fox-terrier?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><!-- page 2--><a name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+2</span>Reginald threw his mind back over the canine fashions of
+the last ten years and gave an evasive answer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think her handsome, the Countess Lomshen?&rdquo;
+asked the Princess.</p>
+<p>Reginald thought the Countess&rsquo;s complexion suggested an
+exclusive diet of macaroons and pale sherry.&nbsp; He said
+so.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But that cannot be possible,&rdquo; said the Princess
+triumphantly; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen her eating fish-soup at
+Donon&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Princess always defended a friend&rsquo;s complexion if it
+was really bad.&nbsp; With her, as with a great many of her sex,
+charity began at homeliness and did not generally progress much
+farther.</p>
+<p>Reginald withdrew his macaroon and sherry theory, and became
+interested in a case of miniatures.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That?&rdquo; said the Princess; &ldquo;that is the old
+Princess Lorikoff.&nbsp; She lived in Millionaya Street, near the
+Winter Palace, and was one of the Court ladies of the old Russian
+school.&nbsp; Her knowledge of people and events was extremely
+limited; but she used to patronise every one who came in contact
+with her.&nbsp; There was a story that when she died and left the
+Millionaya for Heaven she addressed <!-- page 3--><a
+name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 3</span>St. Peter in
+her formal staccato French: &lsquo;Je suis la Princesse
+Lor-i-koff.&nbsp; Il me donne grand plaisir &agrave; faire votre
+connaissance.&nbsp; Je vous en prie me pr&eacute;senter au Bon
+Dieu.&rsquo;&nbsp; St. Peter made the desired introduction, and
+the Princess addressed le Bon Dieu: &lsquo;Je suis la Princesse
+Lor-i-koff.&nbsp; Il me donne grand plaisir &agrave; faire votre
+connaissance.&nbsp; On a souvent parl&eacute; de vous &agrave;
+l&rsquo;&eacute;glise de la rue Million.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only the old and the clergy of Established churches
+know how to be flippant gracefully,&rdquo; commented Reginald;
+&ldquo;which reminds me that in the Anglican Church in a certain
+foreign capital, which shall be nameless, I was present the other
+day when one of the junior chaplains was preaching in aid of
+distressed somethings or other, and he brought a really eloquent
+passage to a close with the remark, &lsquo;The tears of the
+afflicted, to what shall I liken them&mdash;to
+diamonds?&rsquo;&nbsp; The other junior chaplain, who had been
+dozing out of professional jealousy, awoke with a start and asked
+hurriedly, &lsquo;Shall I play to diamonds, partner?&rsquo;&nbsp;
+It didn&rsquo;t improve matters when the senior chaplain remarked
+dreamily but with painful distinctness, &lsquo;Double
+diamonds.&rsquo;&nbsp; Every one looked <!-- page 4--><a
+name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 4</span>at the
+preacher, half expecting him to redouble, but he contented
+himself with scoring what points he could under the
+circumstances.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You English are always so frivolous,&rdquo; said the
+Princess.&nbsp; &ldquo;In Russia we have too many troubles to
+permit of our being light-hearted.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Reginald gave a delicate shiver, such as an Italian greyhound
+might give in contemplating the approach of an ice age of which
+he personally disapproved, and resigned himself to the inevitable
+political discussion.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing that you hear about us in England is
+true,&rdquo; was the Princess&rsquo;s hopeful beginning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I always refused to learn Russian geography at
+school,&rdquo; observed Reginald; &ldquo;I was certain some of
+the names must be wrong.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Everything is wrong with our system of
+government,&rdquo; continued the Princess placidly.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;The Bureaucrats think only of their pockets, and the
+people are exploited and plundered in every direction, and
+everything is mismanaged.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With us,&rdquo; said Reginald, &ldquo;a Cabinet usually
+gets the credit of being depraved and worthless beyond the bounds
+of human <!-- page 5--><a name="page5"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 5</span>conception by the time it has been in
+office about four years.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But if it is a bad Government you can turn it out at
+the elections,&rdquo; argued the Princess.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As far as I remember, we generally do,&rdquo; said
+Reginald.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But here it is dreadful, every one goes to such
+extremes.&nbsp; In England you never go to extremes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We go to the Albert Hall,&rdquo; explained
+Reginald.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is always a see-saw with us between repression
+and violence,&rdquo; continued the Princess; &ldquo;and the pity
+of it is the people are really not in the least inclined to be
+anything but peaceable.&nbsp; Nowhere will you find people more
+good-natured, or family circles where there is more
+affection.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There I agree with you,&rdquo; said Reginald.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I know a boy who lives somewhere on the French Quay who is
+a case in point.&nbsp; His hair curls naturally, especially on
+Sundays, and he plays bridge well, even for a Russian, which is
+saying much.&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t think he has any other
+accomplishments, but his family affection is really of a very
+high order.&nbsp; When his maternal grandmother died he
+didn&rsquo;t go as far as to give up bridge altogether, <!-- page
+6--><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>but he
+declared on nothing but black suits for the next three
+months.&nbsp; That, I think, was really beautiful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Princess was not impressed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think you must be very self-indulgent and live only
+for amusement,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;a life of pleasure-seeking
+and card-playing and dissipation brings only
+dissatisfaction.&nbsp; You will find that out some
+day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I know it turns out that way sometimes,&rdquo;
+assented Reginald.&nbsp; &ldquo;Forbidden fizz is often the
+sweetest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the remark was wasted on the Princess, who preferred
+champagne that had at least a suggestion of dissolved
+barley-sugar.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you will come and see me again,&rdquo; she said,
+in a tone that prevented the hope from becoming too infectious;
+adding as a happy afterthought, &ldquo;you must come to stay with
+us in the country.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her particular part of the country was a few hundred versts
+the other side of Tamboff, with some fifteen miles of agrarian
+disturbance between her and the nearest neighbour.&nbsp; Reginald
+felt that there is some privacy which should be sacred from
+intrusion.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 7--><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+7</span>THE RETICENCE OF LADY ANNE</h2>
+<p>Egbert came into the large, dimly lit drawing-room with the
+air of a man who is not certain whether he is entering a dovecote
+or a bomb factory, and is prepared for either eventuality.&nbsp;
+The little domestic quarrel over the luncheon-table had not been
+fought to a definite finish, and the question was how far Lady
+Anne was in a mood to renew or forgo hostilities.&nbsp; Her pose
+in the arm-chair by the tea-table was rather elaborately rigid;
+in the gloom of a December afternoon Egbert&rsquo;s pince-nez did
+not materially help him to discern the expression of her
+face.</p>
+<p>By way of breaking whatever ice might be floating on the
+surface he made a remark about a dim religious light.&nbsp; He or
+Lady Anne were accustomed to make that remark between 4.30 and 6
+on winter and late <!-- page 8--><a name="page8"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 8</span>autumn evenings; it was a part of
+their married life.&nbsp; There was no recognised rejoinder to
+it, and Lady Anne made none.</p>
+<p>Don Tarquinio lay astretch on the Persian rug, basking in the
+firelight with superb indifference to the possible ill-humour of
+Lady Anne.&nbsp; His pedigree was as flawlessly Persian as the
+rug, and his ruff was coming into the glory of its second
+winter.&nbsp; The page-boy, who had Renaissance tendencies, had
+christened him Don Tarquinio.&nbsp; Left to themselves, Egbert
+and Lady Anne would unfailingly have called him Fluff, but they
+were not obstinate.</p>
+<p>Egbert poured himself out some tea.&nbsp; As the silence gave
+no sign of breaking on Lady Anne&rsquo;s initiative, he braced
+himself for another Yermak effort.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My remark at lunch had a purely academic
+application,&rdquo; he announced; &ldquo;you seem to put an
+unnecessarily personal significance into it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lady Anne maintained her defensive barrier of silence.&nbsp;
+The bullfinch lazily filled in the interval with an air from
+<i>Iphig&eacute;nie en Tauride</i>.&nbsp; Egbert recognised it
+immediately, because it was the only air the bullfinch whistled,
+and he had come to them <!-- page 9--><a name="page9"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 9</span>with the reputation for whistling
+it.&nbsp; Both Egbert and Lady Anne would have preferred
+something from <i>The Yeomen of the Guard</i>, which was their
+favourite opera.&nbsp; In matters artistic they had a similarity
+of taste.&nbsp; They leaned towards the honest and explicit in
+art, a picture, for instance, that told its own story, with
+generous assistance from its title.&nbsp; A riderless warhorse
+with harness in obvious disarray, staggering into a courtyard
+full of pale swooning women, and marginally noted &ldquo;Bad
+News&rdquo;, suggested to their minds a distinct interpretation
+of some military catastrophe.&nbsp; They could see what it was
+meant to convey, and explain it to friends of duller
+intelligence.</p>
+<p>The silence continued.&nbsp; As a rule Lady Anne&rsquo;s
+displeasure became articulate and markedly voluble after four
+minutes of introductory muteness.&nbsp; Egbert seized the
+milk-jug and poured some of its contents into Don
+Tarquinio&rsquo;s saucer; as the saucer was already full to the
+brim an unsightly overflow was the result.&nbsp; Don Tarquinio
+looked on with a surprised interest that evanesced into elaborate
+unconsciousness when he was appealed to by Egbert to come and
+drink up some of the spilt matter.&nbsp; Don Tarquinio was
+prepared <!-- page 10--><a name="page10"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 10</span>to play many r&ocirc;les in life, but
+a vacuum carpet-cleaner was not one of them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think we&rsquo;re being rather
+foolish?&rdquo; said Egbert cheerfully.</p>
+<p>If Lady Anne thought so she didn&rsquo;t say so.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I dare say the fault has been partly on my side,&rdquo;
+continued Egbert, with evaporating cheerfulness.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;After all, I&rsquo;m only human, you know.&nbsp; You seem
+to forget that I&rsquo;m only human.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He insisted on the point, as if there had been unfounded
+suggestions that he was built on Satyr lines, with goat
+continuations where the human left off.</p>
+<p>The bullfinch recommenced its air from <i>Iphig&eacute;nie en
+Tauride</i>.&nbsp; Egbert began to feel depressed.&nbsp; Lady
+Anne was not drinking her tea.&nbsp; Perhaps she was feeling
+unwell.&nbsp; But when Lady Anne felt unwell she was not wont to
+be reticent on the subject.&nbsp; &ldquo;No one knows what I
+suffer from indigestion&rdquo; was one of her favourite
+statements; but the lack of knowledge can only have been caused
+by defective listening; the amount of information available on
+the subject would have supplied material for a monograph.</p>
+<p>Evidently Lady Anne was not feeling unwell.</p>
+<p><!-- page 11--><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+11</span>Egbert began to think he was being unreasonably dealt
+with; naturally he began to make concessions.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I dare say,&rdquo; he observed, taking as central a
+position on the hearth-rug as Don Tarquinio could be persuaded to
+concede him, &ldquo;I may have been to blame.&nbsp; I am willing,
+if I can thereby restore things to a happier standpoint, to
+undertake to lead a better life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He wondered vaguely how it would be possible.&nbsp;
+Temptations came to him, in middle age, tentatively and without
+insistence, like a neglected butcher-boy who asks for a Christmas
+box in February for no more hopeful reason that than he
+didn&rsquo;t get one in December.&nbsp; He had no more idea of
+succumbing to them than he had of purchasing the fish-knives and
+fur boas that ladies are impelled to sacrifice through the medium
+of advertisement columns during twelve months of the year.&nbsp;
+Still, there was something impressive in this unasked-for
+renunciation of possibly latent enormities.</p>
+<p>Lady Anne showed no sign of being impressed.</p>
+<p>Egbert looked at her nervously through his glasses.&nbsp; To
+get the worst of an argument with her was no new
+experience.&nbsp; To get the <!-- page 12--><a
+name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 12</span>worst of a
+monologue was a humiliating novelty.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall go and dress for diner,&rdquo; he announced in
+a voice into which he intended some shade of sternness to
+creep.</p>
+<p>At the door a final access of weakness impelled him to make a
+further appeal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t we being very silly?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A fool&rdquo; was Don Tarquinio&rsquo;s mental comment
+as the door closed on Egbert&rsquo;s retreat.&nbsp; Then he
+lifted his velvet forepaws in the air and leapt lightly on to a
+bookshelf immediately under the bullfinch&rsquo;s cage.&nbsp; It
+was the first time he had seemed to notice the bird&rsquo;s
+existence, but he was carrying out a long-formed theory of action
+with the precision of mature deliberation.&nbsp; The bullfinch,
+who had fancied himself something of a despot, depressed himself
+of a sudden into a third of his normal displacement; then he fell
+to a helpless wing-beating and shrill cheeping.&nbsp; He had cost
+twenty-seven shillings without the cage, but Lady Anne made no
+sign of interfering.&nbsp; She had been dead for two hours.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+13</span>THE LOST SANJAK</h2>
+<p>The prison Chaplain entered the condemned&rsquo;s cell for the
+last time, to give such consolation as he might.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The only consolation I crave for,&rdquo; said the
+condemned, &ldquo;is to tell my story in its entirety to some one
+who will at least give it a respectful hearing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must not be too long over it,&rdquo; said the
+Chaplain, looking at his watch.</p>
+<p>The condemned repressed a shiver and commenced.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Most people will be of opinion that I am paying the
+penalty of my own violent deeds.&nbsp; In reality I am a victim
+to a lack of specialisation in my education and
+character.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lack of specialisation!&rdquo; said the Chaplain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&nbsp; If I had been known as one of the few men in
+England familiar with the fauna of the Outer Hebrides, or able to
+repeat <!-- page 14--><a name="page14"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 14</span>stanzas of Camoens&rsquo; poetry in
+the original, I should have had no difficulty in proving my
+identity in the crisis when my identity became a matter of life
+and death for me.&nbsp; But my education was merely a moderately
+good one, and my temperament was of the general order that avoids
+specialisation.&nbsp; I know a little in a general way about
+gardening and history and old masters, but I could never tell you
+off-hand whether &lsquo;Stella van der Loopen&rsquo; was a
+chrysanthemum or a heroine of the American War of Independence,
+or something by Romney in the Louvre.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Chaplain shifted uneasily in his seat.&nbsp; Now that the
+alternatives had been suggested they all seemed dreadfully
+possible.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I fell in love, or thought I did, with the local
+doctor&rsquo;s wife,&rdquo; continued the condemned.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Why I should have done so, I cannot say, for I do not
+remember that she possessed any particular attractions of mind or
+body.&nbsp; On looking back at past events if seems to me that
+she must have been distinctly ordinary, but I suppose the doctor
+had fallen in love with her once, and what man had done man can
+do.&nbsp; She appeared to be pleased with the attentions which I
+paid her, <!-- page 15--><a name="page15"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 15</span>and to that extent I suppose I might
+say she encouraged me, but I think she was honestly unaware that
+I meant anything more than a little neighbourly interest.&nbsp;
+When one is face to face with Death one wishes to be
+just.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Chaplain murmured approval.&nbsp; &ldquo;At any rate, she
+was genuinely horrified when I took advantage of the
+doctor&rsquo;s absence one evening to declare what I believed to
+be my passion.&nbsp; She begged me to pass out of her life, and I
+could scarcely do otherwise than agree, though I hadn&rsquo;t the
+dimmest idea of how it was to be done.&nbsp; In novels and plays
+I knew it was a regular occurrence, and if you mistook a
+lady&rsquo;s sentiments or intentions you went off to India and
+did things on the frontier as a matter of course.&nbsp; As I
+stumbled along the doctor&rsquo;s carriage-drive I had no very
+clear idea as to what my line of action was to be, but I had a
+vague feeling that I must look at the <i>Times</i> Atlas before
+going to bed.&nbsp; Then, on the dark and lonely highway, I came
+suddenly on a dead body.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Chaplain&rsquo;s interest in the story visibly
+quickened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Judging by the clothes it wore, the corpse <!-- page
+16--><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 16</span>was
+that of a Salvation Army captain.&nbsp; Some shocking accident
+seemed to have struck him down, and the head was crushed and
+battered out of all human semblance.&nbsp; Probably, I thought, a
+motor-car fatality; and then, with a sudden overmastering
+insistence, came another thought, that here was a remarkable
+opportunity for losing my identity and passing out of the life of
+the doctor&rsquo;s wife for ever.&nbsp; No tiresome and risky
+voyage to distant lands, but a mere exchange of clothes and
+identity with the unknown victim of an unwitnessed
+accident.&nbsp; With considerable difficulty I undressed the
+corpse, and clothed it anew in my own garments.&nbsp; Any one who
+has valeted a dead Salvation Army captain in an uncertain light
+will appreciate the difficulty.&nbsp; With the idea, presumably,
+of inducing the doctor&rsquo;s wife to leave her husband&rsquo;s
+roof-tree for some habitation which would be run at my expense, I
+had crammed my pockets with a store of banknotes, which
+represented a good deal of my immediate worldly wealth.&nbsp;
+When, therefore, I stole away into the world in the guise of a
+nameless Salvationist, I was not without resources which would
+easily support so humble a r&ocirc;le for a considerable
+period.&nbsp; I tramped to a <!-- page 17--><a
+name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>neighbouring
+market-town, and, late as the hour was, the production of a few
+shillings procured me supper and a night&rsquo;s lodging in a
+cheap coffee-house.&nbsp; The next day I started forth on an
+aimless course of wandering from one small town to another.&nbsp;
+I was already somewhat disgusted with the upshot of my sudden
+freak; in a few hours&rsquo; time I was considerably more
+so.&nbsp; In the contents-bill of a local news sheet I read the
+announcement of my own murder at the hands of some person
+unknown; on buying a copy of the paper for a detailed account of
+the tragedy, which at first had aroused in me a certain grim
+amusement, I found that the deed ascribed to a wandering
+Salvationist of doubtful antecedents, who had been seen lurking
+in the roadway near the scene of the crime.&nbsp; I was no longer
+amused.&nbsp; The matter promised to be embarrassing.&nbsp; What
+I had mistaken for a motor accident was evidently a case of
+savage assault and murder, and, until the real culprit was found,
+I should have much difficulty in explaining my intrusion into the
+affair.&nbsp; Of course I could establish my own identity; but
+how, without disagreeably involving the doctor&rsquo;s wife,
+could I give any adequate reason for <!-- page 18--><a
+name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 18</span>changing
+clothes with the murdered man?&nbsp; While my brain worked
+feverishly at this problem, I subconsciously obeyed a secondary
+instinct&mdash;to get as far away as possible from the scene of
+the crime, and to get rid at all costs of my incriminating
+uniform.&nbsp; There I found a difficulty.&nbsp; I tried two or
+three obscure clothes shops, but my entrance invariably aroused
+an attitude of hostile suspicion in the proprietors, and on one
+excuse or another they avoided serving me with the now ardently
+desired change of clothing.&nbsp; The uniform that I had so
+thoughtlessly donned seemed as difficult to get out of as the
+fatal shirt of&mdash;You know, I forget the creature&rsquo;s
+name.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; said the Chaplain hurriedly.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Go on with your story.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Somehow, until I could get out of those compromising
+garments, I felt it would not be safe to surrender myself to the
+police.&nbsp; The thing that puzzled me was why no attempt was
+made to arrest me, since there was no question as to the
+suspicion which followed me, like an inseparable shadow, wherever
+I went.&nbsp; Stares, nudgings, whisperings, and even loud-spoken
+remarks of &lsquo;that&rsquo;s &rsquo;im&rsquo; greeted my every
+appearance, and the <!-- page 19--><a name="page19"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 19</span>meanest and most deserted
+eating-house that I patronised soon became filled with a crowd of
+furtively watching customers.&nbsp; I began to sympathise with
+the feeling of Royal personages trying to do a little private
+shopping under the unsparing scrutiny of an irrepressible
+public.&nbsp; And still, with all this inarticulate shadowing,
+which weighed on my nerves almost worse than open hostility would
+have done, no attempt was made to interfere with my
+liberty.&nbsp; Later on I discovered the reason.&nbsp; At the
+time of the murder on the lonely highway a series of important
+bloodhound trials had been taking place in the near
+neighbourhood, and some dozen and a half couples of trained
+animals had been put on the track of the supposed
+murderer&mdash;on my track.&nbsp; One of our most public-spirited
+London dailies had offered a princely prize to the owner of the
+pair that should first track me down, and betting on the chances
+of the respective competitors became rife throughout the
+land.&nbsp; The dogs ranged far and wide over about thirteen
+counties, and though my own movements had become by this time
+perfectly well-known to police and public alike, the sporting
+instincts of the nation stepped in to prevent <!-- page 20--><a
+name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 20</span>my premature
+arrest.&nbsp; &ldquo;Give the dogs a chance,&rdquo; was the
+prevailing sentiment, whenever some ambitious local constable
+wished to put an end to my drawn-out evasion of justice.&nbsp; My
+final capture by the winning pair was not a very dramatic
+episode, in fact, I&rsquo;m not sure that they would have taken
+any notice of me if I hadn&rsquo;t spoken to them and patted
+them, but the event gave rise to an extraordinary amount of
+partisan excitement.&nbsp; The owner of the pair who were next
+nearest up at the finish was an American, and he lodged a protest
+on the ground that an otterhound had married into the family of
+the winning pair six generations ago, and that the prize had been
+offered to the first pair of bloodhounds to capture the murderer,
+and that a dog that had 1/64th part of otterhound blood in it
+couldn&rsquo;t technically be considered a bloodhound.&nbsp; I
+forget how the matter was ultimately settled, but it aroused a
+tremendous amount of acrimonious discussion on both sides of the
+Atlantic.&nbsp; My own contribution to the controversy consisted
+in pointing out that the whole dispute was beside the mark, as
+the actual murderer had not yet been captured; but I soon
+discovered that on this point there was not the <!-- page 21--><a
+name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>least
+divergence of public or expert opinion.&nbsp; I had looked
+forward apprehensively to the proving of my identity and the
+establishment of my motives as a disagreeable necessity; I
+speedily found out that the most disagreeable part of the
+business was that it couldn&rsquo;t be done.&nbsp; When I saw in
+the glass the haggard and hunted expression which the experiences
+of the past few weeks had stamped on my erstwhile placid
+countenance, I could scarcely feel surprised that the few friends
+and relations I possessed refused to recognise me in my altered
+guise, and persisted in their obstinate but widely shared belief
+that it was I who had been done to death on the highway.&nbsp; To
+make matters worse, infinitely worse, an aunt of the really
+murdered man, an appalling female of an obviously low order of
+intelligence, identified me as her nephew, and gave the
+authorities a lurid account of my depraved youth and of her
+laudable but unavailing efforts to spank me into a better
+way.&nbsp; I believe it was even proposed to search me for
+fingerprints.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said the Chaplain, &ldquo;surely your
+educational attainments&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That was just the crucial point,&rdquo; said the <!--
+page 22--><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+22</span>condemned; &ldquo;that was where my lack of
+specialisation told so fatally against me.&nbsp; The dead
+Salvationist, whose identity I had so lightly and so disastrously
+adopted, had possessed a veneer of cheap modern education.&nbsp;
+It should have been easy to demonstrate that my learning was on
+altogether another plane to his, but in my nervousness I bungled
+miserably over test after test that was put to me.&nbsp; The
+little French I had ever known deserted me; I could not render a
+simple phrase about the gooseberry of the gardener into that
+language, because I had forgotten the French for
+gooseberry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Chaplain again wriggled uneasily in his seat.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;And then,&rdquo; resumed the condemned, &ldquo;came the
+final discomfiture.&nbsp; In our village we had a modest little
+debating club, and I remembered having promised, chiefly, I
+suppose, to please and impress the doctor&rsquo;s wife, to give a
+sketchy kind of lecture on the Balkan Crisis.&nbsp; I had relied
+on being able to get up my facts from one or two standard works,
+and the back-numbers of certain periodicals.&nbsp; The
+prosecution had made a careful note of the circumstance that the
+man whom I claimed to be&mdash;and <!-- page 23--><a
+name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>actually
+was&mdash;had posed locally as some sort of second-hand authority
+on Balkan affairs, and, in the midst of a string of questions on
+indifferent topics, the examining counsel asked me with a
+diabolical suddenness if I could tell the Court the whereabouts
+of Novibazar.&nbsp; I felt the question to be a crucial one;
+something told me that the answer was St. Petersburg or Baker
+Street.&nbsp; I hesitated, looked helplessly round at the sea of
+tensely expectant faces, pulled myself together, and chose Baker
+Street.&nbsp; And then I knew that everything was lost.&nbsp; The
+prosecution had no difficulty in demonstrating that an
+individual, even moderately versed in the affairs of the Near
+East, could never have so unceremoniously dislocated Novibazar
+from its accustomed corner of the map.&nbsp; It was an answer
+which the Salvation Army captain might conceivably have
+made&mdash;and I made it.&nbsp; The circumstantial evidence
+connecting the Salvationist with the crime was overwhelmingly
+convincing, and I had inextricably identified myself with the
+Salvationist.&nbsp; And thus it comes to pass that in ten
+minutes&rsquo; time I shall be hanged by the neck until I am dead
+in expiation of the murder of myself, which murder never <!--
+page 24--><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+24</span>took place, and of which, in any case, I am
+innocent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>When the Chaplain returned to his quarters some fifteen
+minutes later, the black flag was floating over the prison
+tower.&nbsp; Breakfast was waiting for him in the dining-room,
+but he first passed into his library, and, taking up the
+<i>Times</i> Atlas, consulted a map of the Balkan
+Peninsula.&nbsp; &ldquo;A thing like that,&rdquo; he observed,
+closing the volume with a snap, &ldquo;might happen to any
+one.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2><!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+25</span>THE SEX THAT DOESN&rsquo;T SHOP</h2>
+<p>The opening of a large new centre for West End shopping,
+particularly feminine shopping, suggests the reflection, Do women
+ever really shop?&nbsp; Of course, it is a well-attested fact
+that they go forth shopping as assiduously as a bee goes
+flower-visiting, but do they shop in the practical sense of the
+word?&nbsp; Granted the money, time, and energy, a resolute
+course of shopping transactions would naturally result in having
+one&rsquo;s ordinary domestic needs unfailingly supplied, whereas
+it is notorious that women servants (and housewives of all
+classes) make it almost a point of honour not to be supplied with
+everyday necessities.&nbsp; &ldquo;We shall be out of starch by
+Thursday,&rdquo; they say with fatalistic foreboding, and by
+Thursday they are out of starch.&nbsp; They have predicted almost
+to a <!-- page 26--><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+26</span>minute the moment when their supply would give out and
+if Thursday happens to be early closing day their triumph is
+complete.&nbsp; A shop where starch is stored for retail purposes
+possibly stands at their very door, but the feminine mind has
+rejected such an obvious source for replenishing a dwindling
+stock.&nbsp; &ldquo;We don&rsquo;t deal there&rdquo; places it at
+once beyond the pale of human resort.&nbsp; And it is noteworthy
+that, just as a sheep-worrying dog seldom molests the flocks in
+his near neighbourhood, so a woman rarely deals with shops in her
+immediate vicinity.&nbsp; The more remote the source of supply
+the more fixed seems to be the resolve to run short of the
+commodity.&nbsp; The Ark had probably not quitted its last
+moorings five minutes before some feminine voice gloatingly
+recorded a shortage of bird-seed.&nbsp; A few days ago two lady
+acquaintances of mine were confessing to some mental uneasiness
+because a friend had called just before lunch-time, and they had
+been unable to ask her to stop and share their meal, as (with a
+touch of legitimate pride) &ldquo;there was nothing in the
+house.&rdquo;&nbsp; I pointed out that they lived in a street
+that bristled with provision shops and that it would have been
+easy to mobilise a very <!-- page 27--><a name="page27"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 27</span>passable luncheon in less than five
+minutes.&nbsp; &ldquo;That,&rdquo; they said with quiet dignity,
+&ldquo;would not have occurred to us,&rdquo; and I felt that I
+had suggested something bordering on the indecent.</p>
+<p>But it is in catering for her literary wants that a
+woman&rsquo;s shopping capacity breaks down most
+completely.&nbsp; If you have perchance produced a book which has
+met with some little measure of success, you are certain to get a
+letter from some lady whom you scarcely known to bow to, asking
+you &ldquo;how it can be got.&rdquo;&nbsp; She knows the name of
+the book, its author, and who published it, but how to get into
+actual contact with it is still an unsolved problem to her.&nbsp;
+You write back pointing out that to have recourse to an
+ironmonger or a corn-dealer will only entail delay and
+disappointment, and suggest an application to a bookseller as the
+most hopeful thing you can think of.&nbsp; In a day or two she
+writes again: &ldquo;It is all right; I have borrowed it from
+your aunt.&rdquo;&nbsp; Here, of course, we have an example of
+the Beyond-Shopper, one who has learned the Better Way, but the
+helplessness exists even when such bypaths of relief are
+closed.&nbsp; A lady who lives in the West End was expressing
+<!-- page 28--><a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+28</span>to me the other day her interest in West Highland
+terriers, and her desire to know more about the breed, so when, a
+few days later, I came across an exhaustive article on that
+subject in the current number of one of our best known
+outdoor-life weeklies, I mentioned that circumstance in a letter,
+giving the date of that number.&nbsp; &ldquo;I cannot get the
+paper,&rdquo; was her telephoned response.&nbsp; And she
+couldn&rsquo;t.&nbsp; She lived in a city where newsagents are
+numbered, I suppose, by the thousand, and she must have passed
+dozens of such shops in her daily shopping excursions, but as far
+as she was concerned that article on West Highland terriers might
+as well have been written in a missal stored away in some
+Buddhist monastery in Eastern Thibet.</p>
+<p>The brutal directness of the masculine shopper arouses a
+certain combative derision in the feminine onlooker.&nbsp; A cat
+that spreads one shrew-mouse over the greater part of a long
+summer afternoon, and then possibly loses him, doubtless feels
+the same contempt for the terrier who compresses his rat into ten
+seconds of the strenuous life.&nbsp; I was finishing off a short
+list of purchases a few afternoons ago when I was discovered by a
+<!-- page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+29</span>lady of my acquaintance whom, swerving aside from the
+lead given us by her godparents thirty years ago, we will call
+Agatha.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re surely not buying blotting-paper
+<i>here</i>?&rdquo; she exclaimed in an agitated whisper, and she
+seemed so genuinely concerned that I stayed my hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let me take you to Winks and Pinks,&rdquo; she said as
+soon as we were out of the building: &ldquo;they&rsquo;ve got
+such lovely shades of blotting-paper&mdash;pearl and heliotrope
+and <i>momie</i> and crushed&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I want ordinary white blotting-paper,&rdquo; I
+said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind.&nbsp; They know me at Winks and
+Pinks,&rdquo; she replied inconsequently.&nbsp; Agatha apparently
+has an idea that blotting-paper is only sold in small quantities
+to persons of known reputation, who may be trusted not to put it
+to dangerous or improper uses.&nbsp; After walking some two
+hundred yards she began to feel that her tea was of more
+immediate importance than my blotting-paper.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you want blotting-paper for?&rdquo; she asked
+suddenly.&nbsp; I explained patiently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I use it to dry up the ink of wet manuscript without
+smudging the writing.&nbsp; <!-- page 30--><a
+name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>Probably a
+Chinese invention of the second century before Christ, but
+I&rsquo;m not sure.&nbsp; The only other use for it that I can
+think of is to roll it into a ball for a kitten to play
+with.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you haven&rsquo;t got a kitten,&rdquo; said Agatha,
+with a feminine desire for stating the entire truth on most
+occasions.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A stray one might come in at any moment,&rdquo; I
+replied.</p>
+<p>Anyway, I didn&rsquo;t get the blotting-paper.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 31--><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+31</span>THE BLOOD-FEUD OF TOAD-WATER<br />
+A WEST-COUNTRY EPIC</h2>
+<p>The Cricks lived at Toad-Water; and in the same lonely upland
+spot Fate had pitched the home of the Saunderses, and for miles
+around these two dwellings there was never a neighbour or a
+chimney or even a burying-ground to bring a sense of cheerful
+communion or social intercourse.&nbsp; Nothing but fields and
+spinneys and barns, lanes and waste-lands.&nbsp; Such was
+Toad-Water; and, even so, Toad-Water had its history.</p>
+<p>Thrust away in the benighted hinterland of a scattered market
+district, it might have been supposed that these two detached
+items of the Great Human Family would have leaned towards one
+another in a fellowship begotten of kindred circumstances and a
+common isolation from the outer world.&nbsp; <!-- page 32--><a
+name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>And perhaps
+it had been so once, but the way of things had brought it
+otherwise.&nbsp; Indeed, otherwise.&nbsp; Fate, which had linked
+the two families in such unavoidable association of habitat, had
+ordained that the Crick household should nourish and maintain
+among its earthly possessions sundry head of domestic fowls,
+while to the Saunderses was given a disposition towards the
+cultivation of garden crops.&nbsp; Herein lay the material, ready
+to hand, for the coming of feud and ill-blood.&nbsp; For the
+grudge between the man of herbs and the man of live stock is no
+new thing; you will find traces of it in the fourth chapter of
+Genesis.&nbsp; And one sunny afternoon in late spring-time the
+feud came&mdash;came, as such things mostly do come, with seeming
+aimlessness and triviality.&nbsp; One of the Crick hens, in
+obedience to the nomadic instincts of her kind, wearied of her
+legitimate scratching-ground, and flew over the low wall that
+divided the holdings of the neighbours.&nbsp; And there, on the
+yonder side, with a hurried consciousness that her time and
+opportunities might be limited, the misguided bird scratched and
+scraped and beaked and delved in the soft yielding bed that had
+been prepared for the solace and well-being of a colony of
+seedling <!-- page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 33</span>onions.&nbsp; Little showers of
+earth-mould and root-fibres went spraying before the hen and
+behind her, and every minute the area of her operations
+widened.&nbsp; The onions suffered considerably.&nbsp; Mrs.
+Saunders, sauntering at this luckless moment down the garden
+path, in order to fill her soul with reproaches at the iniquity
+of the weeds, which grew faster than she or her good man cared to
+remove them, stopped in mute discomfiture before the presence of
+a more magnificent grievance.&nbsp; And then, in the hour of her
+calamity, she turned instinctively to the Great Mother, and
+gathered in her capacious hands large clods of the hard brown
+soil that lay at her feet.&nbsp; With a terrible sincerity of
+purpose, though with a contemptible inadequacy of aim, she rained
+her earth bolts at the marauder, and the bursting pellets called
+forth a flood of cackling protest and panic from the hastily
+departing fowl.&nbsp; Calmness under misfortune is not an
+attribute of either hen-folk or womenkind, and while Mrs.
+Saunders declaimed over her onion bed such portions of the slang
+dictionary as are permitted by the Nonconformist conscience to be
+said or sung, the Vasco da Gama fowl was waking the echoes of
+Toad-Water with crescendo bursts <!-- page 34--><a
+name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>of throat
+music which compelled attention to her griefs.&nbsp; Mrs. Crick
+had a long family, and was therefore licensed, in the eyes of her
+world, to have a short temper, and when some of her ubiquitous
+offspring had informed her, with the authority of eye-witnesses,
+that her neighbour had so far forgotten herself as to heave
+stones at her hen&mdash;her best hen, the best layer in the
+countryside&mdash;her thoughts clothed themselves in language
+&ldquo;unbecoming to a Christian woman&rdquo;&mdash;so at least
+said Mrs. Saunders, to whom most of the language was
+applied.&nbsp; Nor was she, on her part, surprised at Mrs.
+Crick&rsquo;s conduct in letting her hens stray into other
+body&rsquo;s gardens, and then abusing of them, seeing as how she
+remembered things against Mrs. Crick&mdash;and the latter
+simultaneously had recollections of lurking episodes in the past
+of Susan Saunders that were nothing to her credit.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Fond memory, when all things fade we fly to thee,&rdquo;
+and in the paling light of an April afternoon the two women
+confronted each other from their respective sides of the party
+wall, recalling with shuddering breath the blots and blemishes of
+their neighbour&rsquo;s family record.&nbsp; There was that aunt
+of Mrs. Crick&rsquo;s who had died a pauper in Exeter
+workhouse&mdash;<!-- page 35--><a name="page35"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 35</span>every one knew that Mrs.
+Saunders&rsquo; uncle on her mother&rsquo;s side drank himself to
+death&mdash;then there was that Bristol cousin of Mrs.
+Crick&rsquo;s!&nbsp; From the shrill triumph with which his name
+was dragged in, his crime must have been pilfering from a
+cathedral at least, but as both remembrancers were speaking at
+once it was difficult to distinguish his infamy from the scandal
+which beclouded the memory of Mrs. Saunders&rsquo;
+brother&rsquo;s wife&rsquo;s mother&mdash;who may have been a
+regicide, and was certainly not a nice person as Mrs. Crick
+painted her.&nbsp; And then, with an air of accumulating and
+irresistible conviction, each belligerent informed the other that
+she was no lady&mdash;after which they withdrew in a great
+silence, feeling that nothing further remained to be said.&nbsp;
+The chaffinches clinked in the apple trees and the bees droned
+round the berberis bushes, and the waning sunlight slanted
+pleasantly across the garden plots, but between the neighbour
+households had sprung up a barrier of hate, permeating and
+permanent.</p>
+<p>The male heads of the families were necessarily drawn into the
+quarrel, and the children on either side were forbidden to have
+anything to do with the unhallowed <!-- page 36--><a
+name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>offspring of
+the other party.&nbsp; As they had to travel a good three miles
+along the same road to school every day, this was awkward, but
+such things have to be.&nbsp; Thus all communication between the
+households was sundered.&nbsp; Except the cats.&nbsp; Much as
+Mrs. Saunders might deplore it, rumour persistently pointed to
+the Crick he-cat as the presumable father of sundry kittens of
+which the Saunders she-cat was indisputably the mother.&nbsp;
+Mrs. Saunders drowned the kittens, but the disgrace remained.</p>
+<p>Summer succeeded spring, and winter summer, but the feud
+outlasted the waning seasons.&nbsp; Once, indeed, it seemed as
+though the healing influences of religion might restore to
+Toad-Water its erstwhile peace; the hostile families found
+themselves side by side in the soul-kindling atmosphere of a
+Revival Tea, where hymns were blended with a beverage that came
+of tea-leaves and hot water and took after the latter parent, and
+where ghostly counsel was tempered by garnishings of solidly
+fashioned buns&mdash;and here, wrought up by the environment of
+festive piety, Mrs. Saunders so far unbent as to remark guardedly
+to Mrs. Crick that the evening had been a fine one.&nbsp; Mrs.
+Crick, <!-- page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 37</span>under the influence of her ninth cup
+of tea and her fourth hymn, ventured on the hope that it might
+continue fine, but a maladroit allusion on the part of the
+Saunders good man to the backwardness of garden crops brought the
+Feud stalking forth from its corner with all its old
+bitterness.&nbsp; Mrs. Saunders joined heartily in the singing of
+the final hymn, which told of peace and joy and archangels and
+golden glories; but her thoughts were dwelling on the pauper aunt
+of Exeter.</p>
+<p>Years have rolled away, and some of the actors in this wayside
+drama have passed into the Unknown; other onions have arisen,
+have flourished, have gone their way, and the offending hen has
+long since expiated her misdeeds and lain with trussed feet and a
+look of ineffable peace under the arched roof of Barnstaple
+market.</p>
+<p>But the Blood-feud of Toad-Water survives to this day.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 38--><a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+38</span>A YOUNG TURKISH CATASTROPHE<br />
+IN TWO SCENES</h2>
+<p>The Minister for Fine Arts (to whose Department had been
+lately added the new sub-section of Electoral Engineering) paid a
+business visit to the Grand Vizier.&nbsp; According to Eastern
+etiquette they discoursed for a while on indifferent
+subjects.&nbsp; The minister only checked himself in time from
+making a passing reference to the Marathon Race, remembering that
+the Vizier had a Persian grandmother and might consider any
+allusion to Marathon as somewhat tactless.&nbsp; Presently the
+Minister broached the subject of his interview.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Under the new Constitution are women to have
+votes?&rdquo; he asked suddenly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To have votes?&nbsp; Women?&rdquo; exclaimed the Vizier
+in some astonishment.&nbsp; &ldquo;My dear <!-- page 39--><a
+name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 39</span>Pasha, the
+New Departure has a flavour of the absurd as it is; don&rsquo;t
+let&rsquo;s try and make it altogether ridiculous.&nbsp; Women
+have no souls and no intelligence; why on earth should they have
+votes?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know it sounds absurd,&rdquo; said the Minister,
+&ldquo;but they are seriously considering the idea in the
+West.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then they must have a larger equipment of seriousness
+than I gave them credit for.&nbsp; After a lifetime of
+specialised effort in maintaining my gravity I can scarcely
+restrain an inclination to smile at the suggestion.&nbsp; Why,
+out womenfolk in most cases don&rsquo;t know how to read or
+write.&nbsp; How could they perform the operation of
+voting?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They could be shown the names of the candidates and
+where to make their cross.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon?&rdquo; interrupted the Vizier.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Their crescent, I mean,&rdquo; corrected the
+Minister.&nbsp; &ldquo;It would be to the liking of the Young
+Turkish Party,&rdquo; he added.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, well,&rdquo; said the Vizier, &ldquo;if we are to
+do the thing at all we may as well go the whole h---&rdquo; he
+pulled up just as he was uttering the name of an unclean animal,
+and continued, &ldquo;the complete camel.&nbsp; I will issue <!--
+page 40--><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+40</span>instructions that womenfolk are to have
+votes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>The poll was drawing to a close in the Lakoumistan
+division.&nbsp; The candidate of the Young Turkish Party was
+known to be three or four hundred votes ahead, and he was already
+drafting his address, returning thanks to the electors.&nbsp; His
+victory had been almost a foregone conclusion, for he had set in
+motion all the approved electioneering machinery of the
+West.&nbsp; He had even employed motorcars.&nbsp; Few of his
+supporters had gone to the poll in these vehicles, but, thanks to
+the intelligent driving of his chauffeurs, many of his opponents
+had gone to their graves or to the local hospitals, or otherwise
+abstained from voting.&nbsp; And then something unlooked-for
+happened.&nbsp; The rival candidate, Ali the Blest, arrived on
+the scene with his wives and womenfolk, who numbered, roughly,
+six hundred.&nbsp; Ali had wasted little effort on election
+literature, but had been heard to remark that every vote given to
+his opponent meant another sack thrown into the Bosphorus.&nbsp;
+The Young Turkish candidate, who had conformed to the Western
+custom of one wife and hardly any mistresses, stood by <!-- page
+41--><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+41</span>helplessly while his adversary&rsquo;s poll swelled to a
+triumphant majority.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cristabel Columbus!&rdquo; he exclaimed, invoking in
+some confusion the name of a distinguished pioneer; &ldquo;who
+would have thought it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Strange,&rdquo; mused Ali, &ldquo;that one who
+harangued so clamorously about the Secret Ballot should have
+overlooked the Veiled Vote.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And, walking homeward with his constituents, he murmured in
+his beard an improvisation on the heretic poet of Persia:</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;One, rich in metaphors, his Cause
+contrives<br />
+To urge with edged words, like Kabul knives;<br />
+And I, who worst him in this sorry game,<br />
+Was never rich in anything but&mdash;wives.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<h2><!-- page 42--><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+42</span>JUDKIN OF THE PARCELS</h2>
+<p>A figure in an indefinite tweed suit, carrying brown-paper
+parcels.&nbsp; That is what we met suddenly, at the bend of a
+muddy Dorsetshire lane, and the roan mare stared and obviously
+thought of a curtsey.&nbsp; The mare is road-shy, with intervals
+of stolidity, and there is no telling what she will pass and what
+she won&rsquo;t.&nbsp; We call her Redford.&nbsp; That was my
+first meeting with Judkin, and the next time the circumstances
+were the same; the same muddy lane, the same rather apologetic
+figure in the tweed suit, the same&mdash;or very
+similar&mdash;parcels.&nbsp; Only this time the roan looked
+straight in front of her.</p>
+<p>Whether I asked the groom or whether he advanced the
+information, I forget; but someway I gradually reconstructed the
+life-history of this trudger of the lanes.&nbsp; It was much the
+same, no doubt, as that of many <!-- page 43--><a
+name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>others who
+are from time to time pointed out to one as having been aforetime
+in crack cavalry regiments and noted performers in the saddle;
+men who have breathed into their lungs the wonder of the East,
+have romped through life as through a cotillon, have had a thrust
+perhaps at the Viceroy&rsquo;s Cup, and done fantastic
+horsefleshy things around the Gulf of Aden.&nbsp; And then a
+golden stream has dried up, the sunlight has faded suddenly out
+of things, and the gods have nodded &ldquo;Go.&rdquo;&nbsp; And
+they have not gone.&nbsp; They have turned instead to the muddy
+lanes and cheap villas and the marked-down ills of life, to watch
+pear trees growing and to encourage hens for their eggs.&nbsp;
+And Judkin was even as these others; the wine had been suddenly
+spilt from his cup of life, and he had stayed to suck at the
+dregs which the wise throw away.&nbsp; In the days of his scorn
+for most things he would have stared the roan mare and her
+turn-out out of all pretension to smartness, as he would have
+frozen a cheap claret behind its cork, or a plain woman behind
+her veil; and now he was walking stoically through the mud, in a
+tweed suit that would eventually go on to the gardener&rsquo;s
+boy, and would perhaps fit him.&nbsp; The dear <!-- page 44--><a
+name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>gods, who
+know the end before the beginning, were perhaps growing a
+gardener&rsquo;s boy somewhere to fit the garments, and Judkin
+was only a caretaker, inhabiting a portion of them.&nbsp; That is
+what I like to think, and I am probably wrong.&nbsp; And Judkin,
+whose clothes had been to him once more than a religion, scarcely
+less sacred than a family quarrel, would carry those parcels back
+to his villa and to the wife who awaited him and them&mdash;a
+wife who may, for all we know to the contrary, have had a figure
+once, and perhaps has yet a heart of gold&mdash;of nine-carat
+gold, let us say at the least&mdash;but assuredly a soul of
+tape.&nbsp; And he that has fetched and carried will explain how
+it has fared with him in his dealings, and if he has brought the
+wrong sort of sugar or thread he will wheedle away the
+displeasure from that leaden face as a pastrycook girl will drive
+bluebottles off a stale bun.&nbsp; And that man has known what it
+was to coax the fret of a thoroughbred, to soothe its toss and
+sweat as it danced beneath him in the glee and chafe of its
+pulses and the glory of its thews.&nbsp; He has been in the raw
+places of the earth, where the desert beasts have whimpered their
+unthinkable psalmody, and their eyes <!-- page 45--><a
+name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>have shone
+back the reflex of the midnight stars&mdash;and he can immerse
+himself in the tending of an incubator.&nbsp; It is horrible and
+wrong, and yet when I have met him in the lanes his face has worn
+a look of tedious cheerfulness that might pass for
+happiness.&nbsp; Has Judkin of the Parcels found something in the
+lees of life that I have missed in going to and fro over many
+waters?&nbsp; Is there more wisdom in his perverseness than in
+the madness of the wise?&nbsp; The dear gods know.</p>
+<p>I don&rsquo;t think I saw Judkin more than three times all
+told, and always the lane was our point of contact; but as the
+roan mare was taking me to the station one heavy, cloud-smeared
+day, I passed a dull-looking villa that the groom, or instinct,
+told me was Judkin&rsquo;s home.&nbsp; From beyond a hedge of
+ragged elder-bushes could be heard the thud, thud of a spade,
+with an occasional clink and pause, as if some one had picked out
+a stone and thrown it to a distance, and I knew that <i>he</i>
+was doing nameless things to the roots of a pear tree.&nbsp; Near
+by him, I felt sure, would be lying a large and late vegetable
+marrow, and its largeness and lateness would be a theme of
+conversation at luncheon.&nbsp; It would be suggested that it
+should grace the harvest <!-- page 46--><a
+name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>thanksgiving
+service; the harvest having been so generally unsatisfactory, it
+would be unfair to let the farmers supply all the material for
+rejoicing.</p>
+<p>And while I was speeding townwards along the rails Judkin
+would be plodding his way to the vicarage bearing a vegetable
+marrow and a basketful of dahlias.&nbsp; The basket to be
+returned.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 47--><a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+47</span>GABRIEL-ERNEST</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;There is a wild beast in your woods,&rdquo; said the
+artist Cunningham, as he was being driven to the station.&nbsp;
+It was the only remark he had made during the drive, but as Van
+Cheele had talked incessantly his companion&rsquo;s silence had
+not been noticeable.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A stray fox or two and some resident weasels.&nbsp;
+Nothing more formidable,&rdquo; said Van Cheele.&nbsp; The artist
+said nothing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What did you mean about a wild beast?&rdquo; said Van
+Cheele later, when they were on the platform.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing.&nbsp; My imagination.&nbsp; Here is the
+train,&rdquo; said Cunningham.</p>
+<p>That afternoon Van Cheele went for one of his frequent rambles
+through his woodland property.&nbsp; He had a stuffed bittern in
+his study, and knew the names of quite a number of wild flowers,
+so his aunt had <!-- page 48--><a name="page48"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 48</span>possibly some justification in
+describing him as a great naturalist.&nbsp; At any rate, he was a
+great walker.&nbsp; It was his custom to take mental notes of
+everything he saw during his walks, not so much for the purpose
+of assisting contemporary science as to provide topics for
+conversation afterwards.&nbsp; When the bluebells began to show
+themselves in flower he made a point of informing every one of
+the fact; the season of the year might have warned his hearers of
+the likelihood of such an occurrence, but at least they felt that
+he was being absolutely frank with them.</p>
+<p>What Van Cheele saw on this particular afternoon was, however,
+something far removed from his ordinary range of
+experience.&nbsp; On a shelf of smooth stone overhanging a deep
+pool in the hollow of an oak coppice a boy of about sixteen lay
+asprawl, drying his wet brown limbs luxuriously in the sun.&nbsp;
+His wet hair, parted by a recent dive, lay close to his head, and
+his light-brown eyes, so light that there was an almost tigerish
+gleam in them, were turned towards Van Cheele with a certain lazy
+watchfulness.&nbsp; It was an unexpected apparition, and Van
+Cheele found himself engaged in the novel process of thinking
+before he spoke.&nbsp; Where on earth <!-- page 49--><a
+name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 49</span>could this
+wild-looking boy hail from?&nbsp; The miller&rsquo;s wife had
+lost a child some two months ago, supposed to have been swept
+away by the mill-race, but that had been a mere baby, not a
+half-grown lad.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What are you doing there?&rdquo; he demanded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Obviously, sunning myself,&rdquo; replied the boy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where do you live?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here, in these woods.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t live in the woods,&rdquo; said Van
+Cheele.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are very nice woods,&rdquo; said the boy, with a
+touch of patronage in his voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But where do you sleep at night?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t sleep at night; that&rsquo;s my busiest
+time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Van Cheele began to have an irritated feeling that he was
+grappling with a problem that was eluding him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you feed on?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Flesh,&rdquo; said the boy, and he pronounced the word
+with slow relish, as though he were tasting it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Flesh!&nbsp; What Flesh?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Since it interests you, rabbits, wild-fowl, hares,
+poultry, lambs in their season, children <!-- page 50--><a
+name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 50</span>when I can
+get any; they&rsquo;re usually too well locked in at night, when
+I do most of my hunting.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s quite two months since
+I tasted child-flesh.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ignoring the chaffing nature of the last remark Van Cheele
+tried to draw the boy on the subject of possible poaching
+operations.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re talking rather through your hat when you
+speak of feeding on hares.&rdquo;&nbsp; (Considering the nature
+of the boy&rsquo;s toilet the simile was hardly an apt
+one.)&nbsp; &ldquo;Our hillside hares aren&rsquo;t easily
+caught.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At night I hunt on four feet,&rdquo; was the somewhat
+cryptic response.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you mean that you hunt with a dog?&rdquo;
+hazarded Van Cheele.</p>
+<p>The boy rolled slowly over on to his back, and laughed a weird
+low laugh, that was pleasantly like a chuckle and disagreeably
+like a snarl.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t fancy any dog would be very anxious for
+my company, especially at night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Van Cheele began to feel that there was something positively
+uncanny about the strange-eyed, strange-tongued youngster.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t have you staying in these woods,&rdquo;
+he declared authoritatively.</p>
+<p><!-- page 51--><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+51</span>&ldquo;I fancy you&rsquo;d rather have me here than in
+your house,&rdquo; said the boy.</p>
+<p>The prospect of this wild, nude animal in Van Cheele&rsquo;s
+primly ordered house was certainly an alarming one.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t go.&nbsp; I shall have to make
+you,&rdquo; said Van Cheele.</p>
+<p>The boy turned like a flash, plunged into the pool, and in a
+moment had flung his wet and glistening body half-way up the bank
+where Van Cheele was standing.&nbsp; In an otter the movement
+would not have been remarkable; in a boy Van Cheele found it
+sufficiently startling.&nbsp; His foot slipped as he made an
+involuntarily backward movement, and he found himself almost
+prostrate on the slippery weed-grown bank, with those tigerish
+yellow eyes not very far from his own.&nbsp; Almost instinctively
+he half raised his hand to his throat.&nbsp; They boy laughed
+again, a laugh in which the snarl had nearly driven out the
+chuckle, and then, with another of his astonishing lightning
+movements, plunged out of view into a yielding tangle of weed and
+fern.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What an extraordinary wild animal!&rdquo; said Van
+Cheele as he picked himself up.&nbsp; And then he recalled
+Cunningham&rsquo;s remark &ldquo;There is a wild beast in your
+woods.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><!-- page 52--><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+52</span>Walking slowly homeward, Van Cheele began to turn over
+in his mind various local occurrences which might be traceable to
+the existence of this astonishing young savage.</p>
+<p>Something had been thinning the game in the woods lately,
+poultry had been missing from the farms, hares were growing
+unaccountably scarcer, and complaints had reached him of lambs
+being carried off bodily from the hills.&nbsp; Was it possible
+that this wild boy was really hunting the countryside in company
+with some clever poacher dogs?&nbsp; He had spoken of hunting
+&ldquo;four-footed&rdquo; by night, but then, again, he had
+hinted strangely at no dog caring to come near him,
+&ldquo;especially at night.&rdquo;&nbsp; It was certainly
+puzzling.&nbsp; And then, as Van Cheele ran his mind over the
+various depredations that had been committed during the last
+month or two, he came suddenly to a dead stop, alike in his walk
+and his speculations.&nbsp; The child missing from the mill two
+months ago&mdash;the accepted theory was that it had tumbled into
+the mill-race and been swept away; but the mother had always
+declared she had heard a shriek on the hill side of the house, in
+the opposite direction from the water.&nbsp; It was unthinkable,
+of course, but he wished that the boy <!-- page 53--><a
+name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 53</span>had not made
+that uncanny remark about child-flesh eaten two months ago.&nbsp;
+Such dreadful things should not be said even in fun.</p>
+<p>Van Cheele, contrary to his usual wont, did not feel disposed
+to be communicative about his discovery in the wood.&nbsp; His
+position as a parish councillor and justice of the peace seemed
+somehow compromised by the fact that he was harbouring a
+personality of such doubtful repute on his property; there was
+even a possibility that a heavy bill of damages for raided lambs
+and poultry might be laid at his door.&nbsp; At dinner that night
+he was quite unusually silent.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s your voice gone to?&rdquo; said his
+aunt.&nbsp; &ldquo;One would think you had seen a
+wolf.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Van Cheele, who was not familiar with the old saying, thought
+the remark rather foolish; if he <i>had</i> seen a wolf on his
+property his tongue would have been extraordinarily busy with the
+subject.</p>
+<p>At breakfast next morning Van Cheele was conscious that his
+feeling of uneasiness regarding yesterday&rsquo;s episode had not
+wholly disappeared, and he resolved to go by train to the
+neighbouring cathedral town, hunt up <!-- page 54--><a
+name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>Cunningham,
+and learn from him what he had really seen that had prompted the
+remark about a wild beast in the woods.&nbsp; With this
+resolution taken, his usual cheerfulness partially returned, and
+he hummed a bright little melody as he sauntered to the
+morning-room for his customary cigarette.&nbsp; As he entered the
+room the melody made way abruptly for a pious invocation.&nbsp;
+Gracefully asprawl on the ottoman, in an attitude of almost
+exaggerated repose, was the boy of the woods.&nbsp; He was drier
+than when Van Cheele had last seen him, but no other alteration
+was noticeable in his toilet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How dare you come here?&rdquo; asked Van Cheele
+furiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You told me I was not to stay in the woods,&rdquo; said
+the boy calmly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But not to come here.&nbsp; Supposing my aunt should
+see you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And with a view to minimising that catastrophe, Van Cheele
+hastily obscured as much of his unwelcome guest as possible under
+the folds of a <i>Morning Post</i>.&nbsp; At that moment his aunt
+entered the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is a poor boy who has lost his way&mdash;and lost
+his memory.&nbsp; He doesn&rsquo;t know who he is or where he
+comes from,&rdquo; explained Van <!-- page 55--><a
+name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>Cheele
+desperately, glancing apprehensively at the waif&rsquo;s face to
+see whether he was going to add inconvenient candour to his other
+savage propensities.</p>
+<p>Miss Van Cheele was enormously interested.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps his underlinen is marked,&rdquo; she
+suggested.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He seems to have lost most of that, too,&rdquo; said
+Van Cheele, making frantic little grabs at the <i>Morning
+Post</i> to keep it in its place.</p>
+<p>A naked homeless child appealed to Miss Van Cheele as warmly
+as a stray kitten or derelict puppy would have done.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must do all we can for him,&rdquo; she decided, and
+in a very short time a messenger, dispatched to the rectory,
+where a page-boy was kept, had returned with a suit of pantry
+clothes, and the necessary accessories of shirt, shoes, collar,
+etc.&nbsp; Clothed, clean, and groomed, the boy lost none of his
+uncanniness in Van Cheele&rsquo;s eyes, but his aunt found him
+sweet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must call him something till we know who he really
+is,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Gabriel-Ernest, I think; those
+are nice suitable names.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Van Cheele agreed, but he privately doubted whether they were
+being grafted on to a nice suitable child.&nbsp; His misgivings
+were <!-- page 56--><a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+56</span>not diminished by the fact that his staid and elderly
+spaniel had bolted out of the house at the first incoming of the
+boy, and now obstinately remained shivering and yapping at the
+farther end of the orchard, while the canary, usually as vocally
+industrious as Van Cheele himself, had put itself on an allowance
+of frightened cheeps.&nbsp; More than ever he was resolved to
+consult Cunningham without loss of time.</p>
+<p>As he drove off to the station his aunt was arranging that
+Gabriel-Ernest should help her to entertain the infant members of
+her Sunday-school class at tea that afternoon.</p>
+<p>Cunningham was not at first disposed to be communicative.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My mother died of some brain trouble,&rdquo; he
+explained, &ldquo;so you will understand why I am averse to
+dwelling on anything of an impossibly fantastic nature that I may
+see or think that I have seen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But what <i>did</i> you see?&rdquo; persisted Van
+Cheele.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What I thought I saw was something so extraordinary
+that no really sane man could dignify it with the credit of
+having actually happened.&nbsp; I was standing, the last evening
+I was with you, half-hidden in the hedge-growth <!-- page 57--><a
+name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>by the
+orchard gate, watching the dying glow of the sunset.&nbsp;
+Suddenly I became aware of a naked boy, a bather from some
+neighbouring pool, I took him to be, who was standing out on the
+bare hillside also watching the sunset.&nbsp; His pose was so
+suggestive of some wild faun of Pagan myth that I instantly
+wanted to engage him as a model, and in another moment I think I
+should have hailed him.&nbsp; But just then the sun dipped out of
+view, and all the orange and pink slid out of the landscape,
+leaving it cold and grey.&nbsp; And at the same moment an
+astounding thing happened&mdash;the boy vanished too!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! vanished away into nothing?&rdquo; asked Van
+Cheele excitedly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; that is the dreadful part of it,&rdquo; answered
+the artist; &ldquo;on the open hillside where the boy had been
+standing a second ago, stood a large wolf, blackish in colour,
+with gleaming fangs and cruel, yellow eyes.&nbsp; You may
+think&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Van Cheele did not stop for anything as futile as
+thought.&nbsp; Already he was tearing at top speed towards the
+station.&nbsp; He dismissed the idea of a telegram.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Gabriel-Ernest is a werewolf&rdquo; was a hopelessly <!--
+page 58--><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+58</span>inadequate effort at conveying the situation, and his
+aunt would think it was a code message to which he had omitted to
+give her the key.&nbsp; His one hope was that he might reach home
+before sundown.&nbsp; The cab which he chartered at the other end
+of the railway journey bore him with what seemed exasperating
+slowness along the country roads, which were pink and mauve with
+the flush of the sinking sun.&nbsp; His aunt was putting away
+some unfinished jams and cake when he arrived.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Gabriel-Ernest?&rdquo; he almost screamed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is taking the little Toop child home,&rdquo; said
+his aunt.&nbsp; &ldquo;It was getting so late, I thought it
+wasn&rsquo;t safe to let it go back alone.&nbsp; What a lovely
+sunset, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Van Cheele, although not oblivious of the glow in the
+western sky, did not stay to discuss its beauties.&nbsp; At a
+speed for which he was scarcely geared he raced along the narrow
+lane that led to the home of the Toops.&nbsp; On one side ran the
+swift current of the mill-stream, on the other rose the stretch
+of bare hillside.&nbsp; A dwindling rim of red sun showed still
+on the skyline, and the next turning must bring him in view of
+the ill-assorted <!-- page 59--><a name="page59"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 59</span>couple he was pursuing.&nbsp; Then
+the colour went suddenly out of things, and a grey light settled
+itself with a quick shiver over the landscape.&nbsp; Van Cheele
+heard a shrill wail of fear, and stopped running.</p>
+<p>Nothing was ever seen again of the Toop child or
+Gabriel-Ernest, but the latter&rsquo;s discarded garments were
+found lying in the road so it was assumed that the child had
+fallen into the water, and that the boy had stripped and jumped
+in, in a vain endeavour to save it.&nbsp; Van Cheele and some
+workmen who were near by at the time testified to having heard a
+child scream loudly just near the spot where the clothes were
+found.&nbsp; Mrs. Toop, who had eleven other children, was
+decently resigned to her bereavement, but Miss Van Cheele
+sincerely mourned her lost foundling.&nbsp; It was on her
+initiative that a memorial brass was put up in the parish church
+to &ldquo;Gabriel-Ernest, an unknown boy, who bravely sacrificed
+his life for another.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Van Cheele gave way to his aunt in most things, but he flatly
+refused to subscribe to the Gabriel-Ernest memorial.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 60--><a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+60</span>THE SAINT AND THE GOBLIN</h2>
+<p>The little stone Saint occupied a retired niche in a side
+aisle of the old cathedral.&nbsp; No one quite remembered who he
+had been, but that in a way was a guarantee of
+respectability.&nbsp; At least so the Goblin said.&nbsp; The
+Goblin was a very fine specimen of quaint stone carving, and
+lived up in the corbel on the wall opposite the niche of the
+little Saint.&nbsp; He was connected with some of the best
+cathedral folk, such as the queer carvings in the choir stalls
+and chancel screen, and even the gargoyles high up on the
+roof.&nbsp; All the fantastic beasts and manikins that sprawled
+and twisted in wood or stone or lead overhead in the arches or
+away down in the crypt were in some way akin to him; consequently
+he was a person of recognised importance in the cathedral
+world.</p>
+<p>The little stone Saint and the Goblin got <!-- page 61--><a
+name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 61</span>on very well
+together, though they looked at most things from different points
+of view.&nbsp; The Saint was a philanthropist in an old fashioned
+way; he thought the world, as he saw it, was good, but might be
+improved.&nbsp; In particular he pitied the church mice, who were
+miserably poor.&nbsp; The Goblin, on the other hand, was of
+opinion that the world, as he knew it, was bad, but had better be
+let alone.&nbsp; It was the function of the church mice to be
+poor.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All the same,&rdquo; said the Saint, &ldquo;I feel very
+sorry for them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course you do,&rdquo; said the Goblin;
+&ldquo;it&rsquo;s <i>your</i> function to feel sorry for
+them.&nbsp; If they were to leave off being poor you
+couldn&rsquo;t fulfil your functions.&nbsp; You&rsquo;d be a
+sinecure.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He rather hoped that the Saint would ask him what a sinecure
+meant, but the latter took refuge in a stony silence.&nbsp; The
+Goblin might be right, but still, he thought, he would like to do
+something for the church mice before winter came on; they were so
+very poor.</p>
+<p>Whilst he was thinking the matter over he was startled by
+something falling between his feet with a hard metallic
+clatter.&nbsp; It was a <!-- page 62--><a name="page62"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 62</span>bright new thaler; one of the
+cathedral jackdaws, who collected such things, had flown in with
+it to a stone cornice just above his niche, and the banging of
+the sacristy door had startled him into dropping it.&nbsp; Since
+the invention of gunpowder the family nerves were not what they
+had been.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What have you got there?&rdquo; asked the Goblin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A silver thaler,&rdquo; said the Saint.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Really,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;it is most fortunate;
+now I can do something for the church mice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How will you manage it?&rdquo; asked the Goblin.</p>
+<p>The Saint considered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will appear in a vision to the vergeress who sweeps
+the floors.&nbsp; I will tell her that she will find a silver
+thaler between my feet, and that she must take it and buy a
+measure of corn and put it on my shrine.&nbsp; When she finds the
+money she will know that it was a true dream, and she will take
+care to follow my directions.&nbsp; Then the mice will have food
+all the winter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course <i>you</i> can do that,&rdquo; observed the
+Goblin.&nbsp; &ldquo;Now, <i>I</i> can only appear to people
+after they have had a heavy supper of indigestible things.&nbsp;
+My opportunities with the <!-- page 63--><a
+name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 63</span>vergeress
+would be limited.&nbsp; There is some advantage in being a saint
+after all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>All this while the coin was lying at the Saint&rsquo;s
+feet.&nbsp; It was clean and glittering and had the
+Elector&rsquo;s arms beautifully stamped upon it.&nbsp; The Saint
+began to reflect that such an opportunity was too rare to be
+hastily disposed of.&nbsp; Perhaps indiscriminate charity might
+be harmful to the church mice.&nbsp; After all, it was their
+function to be poor; the Goblin had said so, and the Goblin was
+generally right.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking,&rdquo; he said to that
+personage, &ldquo;that perhaps it would be really better if I
+ordered a thaler&rsquo;s worth of candles to be placed on my
+shrine instead of the corn.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He often wished, for the look of the thing, that people would
+sometimes burn candles at his shrine; but as they had forgotten
+who he was it was not considered a profitable speculation to pay
+him that attention.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Candles would be more orthodox,&rdquo; said the
+Goblin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;More orthodox, certainly,&rdquo; agreed the Saint,
+&ldquo;and the mice could have the ends to eat; candle-ends are
+most fattening.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Goblin was too well bred to wink; <!-- page 64--><a
+name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 64</span>besides,
+being a stone goblin, it was out of the question.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if it ain&rsquo;t there, sure enough!&rdquo; said
+the vergeress next morning.&nbsp; She took the shining coin down
+from the dusty niche and turned it over and over in her grimy
+hands.&nbsp; Then she put it to her mouth and bit it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She can&rsquo;t be going to eat it,&rdquo; thought the
+Saint, and fixed her with his stoniest stare.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the woman, in a somewhat shriller
+key, &ldquo;who&rsquo;d have thought it!&nbsp; A saint,
+too!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she did an unaccountable thing.&nbsp; She hunted an old
+piece of tape out of her pocket, and tied to crosswise, with a
+big loop, round the thaler, and hung it round the neck of the
+little Saint.</p>
+<p>Then she went away.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The only possible explanation,&rdquo; said the Goblin,
+&ldquo;is that it&rsquo;s a bad one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is that decoration your neighbour is
+wearing?&rdquo; asked a wyvern that was wrought into the capital
+of an adjacent pillar.</p>
+<p><!-- page 65--><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+65</span>The Saint was ready to cry with mortification, only,
+being of stone, he couldn&rsquo;t.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a coin of&mdash;ahem!&mdash;fabulous
+value,&rdquo; replied the Goblin tactfully.</p>
+<p>And the news went round the Cathedral that the shrine of the
+little stone Saint had been enriched by a priceless offering.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;After all, it&rsquo;s something to have the conscience
+of a goblin,&rdquo; said the Saint to himself.</p>
+<p>The church mice were as poor as ever.&nbsp; But that was their
+function.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 66--><a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+66</span>THE SOUL OF LAPLOSHKA</h2>
+<p>Laploshka was one of the meanest men I have ever met, and
+quite one of the most entertaining.&nbsp; He said horrid things
+about other people in such a charming way that one forgave him
+for the equally horrid things he said about oneself behind
+one&rsquo;s back.&nbsp; Hating anything in the way of ill-natured
+gossip ourselves, we are always grateful to those who do it for
+us and do it well.&nbsp; And Laploshka did it really well.</p>
+<p>Naturally Laploshka had a large circle of acquaintances, and
+as he exercised some care in their selection it followed that an
+appreciable proportion were men whose bank balances enabled them
+to acquiesce indulgently in his rather one-sided views on
+hospitality.&nbsp; Thus, although possessed of only moderate
+means, he was able to live comfortably within his income, and
+still more comfortably within those of various tolerantly
+disposed associates.</p>
+<p><!-- page 67--><a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+67</span>But towards the poor or to those of the same limited
+resources as himself his attitude was one of watchful anxiety; he
+seemed to be haunted by a besetting fear lest some fraction of a
+shilling or franc, or whatever the prevailing coinage might be,
+should be diverted from his pocket or service into that of a
+hard-up companion.&nbsp; A two-franc cigar would be cheerfully
+offered to a wealthy patron, on the principle of doing evil that
+good may come, but I have known him indulge in agonies of perjury
+rather than admit the incriminating possession of a copper coin
+when change was needed to tip a waiter.&nbsp; The coin would have
+been duly returned at the earliest opportunity&mdash;he would
+have taken means to insure against forgetfulness on the part of
+the borrower&mdash;but accidents might happen, and even the
+temporary estrangement from his penny or sou was a calamity to be
+avoided.</p>
+<p>The knowledge of this amiable weakness offered a perpetual
+temptation to play upon Laploshka&rsquo;s fears of involuntary
+generosity.&nbsp; To offer him a lift in a cab and pretend not to
+have enough money to pay the fair, to fluster him with a request
+for a sixpence when his hand was full of silver just received in
+<!-- page 68--><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+68</span>change, these were a few of the petty torments that
+ingenuity prompted as occasion afforded.&nbsp; To do justice to
+Laploshka&rsquo;s resourcefulness it must be admitted that he
+always emerged somehow or other from the most embarrassing
+dilemma without in any way compromising his reputation for saying
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;&nbsp; But the gods send opportunities at some
+time to most men, and mine came one evening when Laploshka and I
+were supping together in a cheap boulevard restaurant.&nbsp;
+(Except when he was the bidden guest of some one with an
+irreproachable income, Laploshka was wont to curb his appetite
+for high living; on such fortunate occasions he let it go on an
+easy snaffle.)&nbsp; At the conclusion of the meal a somewhat
+urgent message called me away, and without heeding my
+companion&rsquo;s agitated protest, I called back cruelly,
+&ldquo;Pay my share; I&rsquo;ll settle with you
+to-morrow.&rdquo;&nbsp; Early on the morrow Laploshka hunted me
+down by instinct as I walked along a side street that I hardly
+ever frequented.&nbsp; He had the air of a man who had not
+slept.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You owe me two francs from last night,&rdquo; was his
+breathless greeting.</p>
+<p>I spoke evasively of the situation in Portugal, where more
+trouble seemed brewing.&nbsp; But <!-- page 69--><a
+name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 69</span>Laploshka
+listened with the abstraction of the deaf adder, and quickly
+returned to the subject of the two francs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I must owe it to you,&rdquo; I said
+lightly and brutally.&nbsp; &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t a sou in the
+world,&rdquo; and I added mendaciously, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going
+away for six months or perhaps longer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Laploshka said nothing, but his eyes bulged a little and his
+cheeks took on the mottled hues of an ethnographical map of the
+Balkan Peninsula.&nbsp; That same day, at sundown, he died.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Failure of the heart&rsquo;s action,&rdquo; was the
+doctor&rsquo;s verdict; but I, who knew better, knew that he died
+of grief.</p>
+<p>There arose the problem of what to do with his two
+francs.&nbsp; To have killed Laploshka was one thing; to have
+kept his beloved money would have argued a callousness of feeling
+of which I am not capable.&nbsp; The ordinary solution, of giving
+it to the poor, would by no means fit the present situation, for
+nothing would have distressed the dead man more than such a
+misuse of his property.&nbsp; On the other hand, the bestowal of
+two francs on the rich was an operation which called for some
+tact.&nbsp; An easy way out of the difficulty seemed, however, to
+present itself the following <!-- page 70--><a
+name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 70</span>Sunday, as I
+was wedged into the cosmopolitan crowd which filled the
+side-aisle of one of the most popular Paris churches.&nbsp; A
+collecting-bag, for &ldquo;the poor of Monsieur le
+Cur&eacute;,&rdquo; was buffeting its tortuous way across the
+seemingly impenetrable human sea, and a German in front of me,
+who evidently did not wish his appreciation of the magnificent
+music to be marred by a suggestion of payment, made audible
+criticisms to his companion on the claims of the said
+charity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They do not want money,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;they
+have too much money.&nbsp; They have no poor.&nbsp; They are all
+pampered.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>If that were really the case my way seemed clear.&nbsp; I
+dropped Laploshka&rsquo;s two francs into the bag with a murmured
+blessing on the rich of Monsieur le Cur&eacute;.</p>
+<p>Some three weeks later chance had taken me to Vienna, and I
+sat one evening regaling myself in a humble but excellent little
+Gasthaus up in the Wahringer quarter.&nbsp; The appointments were
+primitive, but the Schnitzel, the beer, and the cheese could not
+have been improved on.&nbsp; Good cheer brought good custom, and
+with the exception of one small table near the door every place
+was occupied.&nbsp; Half-way through my meal I happened to <!--
+page 71--><a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+71</span>glance in the direction of that empty seat, and saw that
+it was no longer empty.&nbsp; Poring over the bill of fare with
+the absorbed scrutiny of one who seeks the cheapest among the
+cheap was Laploshka.&nbsp; Once he looked across at me, with a
+comprehensive glance at my repast, as though to say, &ldquo;It is
+my two francs you are eating,&rdquo; and then looked swiftly
+away.&nbsp; Evidently the poor of Monsieur le Cur&eacute; had
+been genuine poor.&nbsp; The Schnitzel turned to leather in my
+mouth, the beer seemed tepid; I left the Emmenthaler
+untasted.&nbsp; My one idea was to get away from the room, away
+from the table where <i>that</i> was seated; and as I fled I felt
+Laploshka&rsquo;s reproachful eyes watching the amount that I
+gave to the piccolo&mdash;out of his two francs.&nbsp; I lunched
+next day at an expensive restaurant which I felt sure that the
+living Laploshka would never have entered on his own account, and
+I hoped that the dead Laploshka would observe the same
+barriers.&nbsp; I was not mistaken, but as I came out I found him
+miserably studying the bill of fare stuck up on the
+portals.&nbsp; Then he slowly made his way over to a
+milk-hall.&nbsp; For the first time in my experience I missed the
+charm and gaiety of Vienna life.</p>
+<p>After that, in Paris or London or wherever <!-- page 72--><a
+name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 72</span>I happened to
+be, I continued to see a good deal of Laploshka.&nbsp; If I had a
+seat in a box at a theatre I was always conscious of his eyes
+furtively watching me from the dim recesses of the gallery.&nbsp;
+As I turned into my club on a rainy afternoon I would see him
+taking inadequate shelter in a doorway opposite.&nbsp; Even if I
+indulged in the modest luxury of a penny chair in the Park he
+generally confronted me from one of the free benches, never
+staring at me, but always elaborately conscious of my
+presence.&nbsp; My friends began to comment on my changed looks,
+and advised me to leave off heaps of things.&nbsp; I should have
+liked to have left off Laploshka.</p>
+<p>On a certain Sunday&mdash;it was probably Easter, for the
+crush was worse than ever&mdash;I was again wedged into the crowd
+listening to the music in the fashionable Paris church, and again
+the collection-bag was buffeting its way across the human
+sea.&nbsp; An English lady behind me was making ineffectual
+efforts to convey a coin into the still distant bag, so I took
+the money at her request and helped it forward to its
+destination.&nbsp; It was a two-franc piece.&nbsp; A swift
+inspiration came to me, and I merely dropped my own sou into the
+bag and slid the silver coin into my pocket.&nbsp; I had
+withdrawn <!-- page 73--><a name="page73"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 73</span>Laploshka&rsquo;s two francs from the
+poor, who should never have had the legacy.&nbsp; As I backed
+away from the crowd I heard a woman&rsquo;s voice say, &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t believe he put my money in the bag.&nbsp; There are
+swarms of people in Paris like that!&rdquo;&nbsp; But my mind was
+lighter that it had been for a long time.</p>
+<p>The delicate mission of bestowing the retrieved sum on the
+deserving rich still confronted me.&nbsp; Again I trusted to the
+inspiration of accident, and again fortune favoured me.&nbsp; A
+shower drove me, two days later, into one of the historic
+churches on the left bank of the Seine, and there I found,
+peering at the old wood-carvings, the Baron R., one of the
+wealthiest and most shabbily dressed men in Paris.&nbsp; It was
+now or never.&nbsp; Putting a strong American inflection into the
+French which I usually talked with an unmistakable British
+accent, I catechised the Baron as to the date of the
+church&rsquo;s building, its dimensions, and other details which
+an American tourist would be certain to want to know.&nbsp;
+Having acquired such information as the Baron was able to impart
+on short notice, I solemnly placed the two-franc piece in his
+hand, with the hearty assurance that it was &ldquo;pour
+vous,&rdquo; and turned to go.&nbsp; The Baron was slightly <!--
+page 74--><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+74</span>taken aback, but accepted the situation with a good
+grace.&nbsp; Walking over to a small box fixed in the wall, he
+dropped Laploshka&rsquo;s two francs into the slot.&nbsp; Over
+the box was the inscription, &ldquo;Pour les pauvres de M. le
+Cur&eacute;.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>That evening, at the crowded corner by the Cafe de la Paix, I
+caught a fleeting glimpse of Laploshka.&nbsp; He smiled, slightly
+raised his hat, and vanished.&nbsp; I never saw him again.&nbsp;
+After all, the money had been <i>given</i> to the deserving rich,
+and the soul of Laploshka was at peace.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 75--><a name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+75</span>THE BAG</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;The Major is coming in to tea,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+Hoopington to her niece.&nbsp; &ldquo;He&rsquo;s just gone round
+to the stables with his horse.&nbsp; Be as bright and lively as
+you can; the poor man&rsquo;s got a fit of the glooms.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Major Pallaby was a victim of circumstances, over which he had
+no control, and of his temper, over which he had very
+little.&nbsp; He had taken on the Mastership of the Pexdale
+Hounds in succession to a highly popular man who had fallen foul
+of his committee, and the Major found himself confronted with the
+overt hostility of at least half the hunt, while his lack of tact
+and amiability had done much to alienate the remainder.&nbsp;
+Hence subscriptions were beginning to fall off, foxes grew
+provokingly scarcer, and wire obtruded itself with increasing
+frequency.&nbsp; The Major could plead reasonable excuse for his
+fit of the glooms.</p>
+<p><!-- page 76--><a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+76</span>In ranging herself as a partisan on the side of Major
+Pallaby Mrs. Hoopington had been largely influenced by the fact
+that she had made up her mind to marry him at an early
+date.&nbsp; Against his notorious bad temper she set his three
+thousand a year, and his prospective succession to a baronetcy
+gave a casting vote in his favour.&nbsp; The Major&rsquo;s plans
+on the subject of matrimony were not at present in such an
+advanced stage as Mrs. Hoopington&rsquo;s, but he was beginning
+to find his way over to Hoopington Hall with a frequency that was
+already being commented on.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He had a wretchedly thin field out again
+yesterday,&rdquo; said Mrs. Hoopington.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why you
+didn&rsquo;t bring one or two hunting men down with you, instead
+of that stupid Russian boy, I can&rsquo;t think.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Vladimir isn&rsquo;t stupid,&rdquo; protested her
+niece; &ldquo;he&rsquo;s one of the most amusing boys I ever
+met.&nbsp; Just compare him for a moment with some of your heavy
+hunting men&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Anyhow, my dear Norah, he can&rsquo;t ride.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Russians never can; but he shoots.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; and what does he shoot?&nbsp; Yesterday he brought
+home a woodpecker in his game-bag.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><!-- page 77--><a name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+77</span>&ldquo;But he&rsquo;d shot three pheasants and some
+rabbits as well.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s no excuse for including a woodpecker in
+his game-bag.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Foreigners go in for mixed bags more than we do.&nbsp;
+A Grand Duke pots a vulture just as seriously as we should stalk
+a bustard.&nbsp; Anyhow, I&rsquo;ve explained to Vladimir that
+certain birds are beneath his dignity as a sportsman.&nbsp; And
+as he&rsquo;s only nineteen, of course, his dignity is a sure
+thing to appeal to.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Hoopington sniffed.&nbsp; Most people with whom Vladimir
+came in contact found his high spirits infectious, but his
+present hostess was guaranteed immune against infection of that
+sort.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hear him coming in now,&rdquo; she observed.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I shall go and get ready for tea.&nbsp; We&rsquo;re going
+to have it here in the hall.&nbsp; Entertain the Major if he
+comes in before I&rsquo;m down, and, above all, be
+bright.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Norah was dependent on her aunt&rsquo;s good graces for many
+little things that made life worth living, and she was conscious
+of a feeling of discomfiture because the Russian youth whom she
+had brought down as a welcome element of change in the
+country-house <!-- page 78--><a name="page78"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 78</span>routine was not making a good
+impression.&nbsp; That young gentleman, however, was supremely
+unconscious of any shortcomings, and burst into the hall, tired,
+and less sprucely groomed than usual, but distinctly
+radiant.&nbsp; His game-bag looked comfortably full.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Guess what I have shot,&rdquo; he demanded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pheasants, woodpigeons, rabbits,&rdquo; hazarded
+Norah.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; a large beast; I don&rsquo;t know what you call it
+in English.&nbsp; Brown, with a darkish tail.&rdquo;&nbsp; Norah
+changed colour.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does it live in a tree and eat nuts?&rdquo; she asked,
+hoping that the use of the adjective &ldquo;large&rdquo; might be
+an exaggeration.</p>
+<p>Vladimir laughed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no; not a <i>biyelka</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does it swim and eat fish?&rdquo; asked Norah, with a
+fervent prayer in her heart that it might turn out to be an
+otter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Vladimir, busy with the straps of his
+game-bag; &ldquo;it lives in the woods, and eats rabbits and
+chickens.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Norah sat down suddenly, and hid her face in her hands.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Merciful Heaven!&rdquo; she wailed; &ldquo;he&rsquo;s
+shot a fox!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><!-- page 79--><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+79</span>Vladimir looked up at her in consternation.&nbsp; In a
+torrent of agitated words she tried to explain the horror of the
+situation.&nbsp; The boy understood nothing, but was thoroughly
+alarmed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hide it, hide it!&rdquo; said Norah frantically,
+pointing to the still unopened bag.&nbsp; &ldquo;My aunt and the
+Major will be here in a moment.&nbsp; Throw it on the top of that
+chest; they won&rsquo;t see it there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Vladimir swung the bag with fair aim; but the strap caught in
+its flight on the outstanding point of an antler fixed in the
+wall, and the bag, with its terrible burden, remained suspended
+just above the alcove where tea would presently be laid.&nbsp; At
+that moment Mrs. Hoopington and the Major entered the hall.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Major is going to draw our covers to-morrow,&rdquo;
+announced the lady, with a certain heavy satisfaction.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Smithers is confident that we&rsquo;ll be able to show him
+some sport; he swears he&rsquo;s seen a fox in the nut copse
+three times this week.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I hope so; I hope so,&rdquo; said the
+Major moodily.&nbsp; &ldquo;I must break this sequence of blank
+days.&nbsp; One hears so often that a fox has settled down as a
+tenant for life in certain <!-- page 80--><a
+name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 80</span>covers, and
+then when you go to turn him out there isn&rsquo;t a trace of
+him.&nbsp; I&rsquo;m certain a fox was shot or trapped in Lady
+Widden&rsquo;s woods the very day before we drew them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Major, if any one tried that game on in my woods
+they&rsquo;d get short shrift,&rdquo; said Mrs. Hoopington.</p>
+<p>Norah found her way mechanically to the tea-table and made her
+fingers frantically busy in rearranging the parsley round the
+sandwich dish.&nbsp; On one side of her loomed the morose
+countenance of the Major, on the other she was conscious of the
+scared, miserable eyes of Vladimir.&nbsp; And above it all hung
+<i>that</i>.&nbsp; She dared not raise her eyes above the level
+of the tea-table, and she almost expected to see a spot of
+accusing vulpine blood drip down and stain the whiteness of the
+cloth.&nbsp; Her aunt&rsquo;s manner signalled to her the
+repeated message to &ldquo;be bright&rdquo;; for the present she
+was fully occupied in keeping her teeth from chattering.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What did you shoot to-day?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Hoopington
+suddenly of the unusually silent Vladimir.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing&mdash;nothing worth speaking of,&rdquo; said
+the boy.</p>
+<p>Norah&rsquo;s heart, which had stood still for a <!-- page
+81--><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+81</span>space, made up for lost time with a most disturbing
+bound.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wish you&rsquo;d find something that was worth
+speaking about,&rdquo; said the hostess; &ldquo;every one seems
+to have lost their tongues.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When did Smithers last see that fox?&rdquo; said the
+Major.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yesterday morning; a fine dog-fox, with a dark
+brush,&rdquo; confided Mrs. Hoopington.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Aha, we&rsquo;ll have a good gallop after that brush
+to-morrow,&rdquo; said the Major, with a transient gleam of good
+humour.&nbsp; And then gloomy silence settled again round the
+tea-table, a silence broken only by despondent munchings and the
+occasional feverish rattle of a teaspoon in its saucer.&nbsp; A
+diversion was at last afforded by Mrs. Hoopington&rsquo;s
+fox-terrier, which had jumped on to a vacant chair, the better to
+survey the delicacies of the table, and was now sniffing in an
+upward direction at something apparently more interesting than
+cold tea-cake.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is exciting him?&rdquo; asked his mistress, as the
+dog suddenly broke into short angry barks, with a running
+accompaniment of tremulous whines.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s your
+game-bag, Vladimir!&nbsp; What <i>have</i> you got in
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><!-- page 82--><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+82</span>&ldquo;By Gad,&rdquo; said the Major, who was now
+standing up; &ldquo;there&rsquo;s a pretty warm scent!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And then a simultaneous idea flashed on himself and Mrs.
+Hoopington.&nbsp; Their faces flushed to distinct but harmonious
+tones of purple, and with one accusing voice they screamed,
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve shot the fox!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Norah tried hastily to palliate Vladimir&rsquo;s misdeed in
+their eyes, but it is doubtful whether they heard her.&nbsp; The
+Major&rsquo;s fury clothed and reclothed itself in words as
+frantically as a woman up in town for one day&rsquo;s shopping
+tries on a succession of garments.&nbsp; He reviled and railed at
+fate and the general scheme of things, he pitied himself with a
+strong, deep pity too poignent for tears, he condemned every one
+with whom he had ever come in contact to endless and abnormal
+punishments.&nbsp; In fact, he conveyed the impression that if a
+destroying angel had been lent to him for a week it would have
+had very little time for private study.&nbsp; In the lulls of his
+outcry could be heard the querulous monotone of Mrs. Hoopington
+and the sharp staccato barking of the fox-terrier.&nbsp;
+Vladimir, who did not understand a tithe of what was being said,
+sat fondling a cigarette and repeating under his breath from time
+to time a vigorous <!-- page 83--><a name="page83"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 83</span>English adjective which he had long
+ago taken affectionately into his vocabulary.&nbsp; His mind
+strayed back to the youth in the old Russian folk-tale who shot
+an enchanted bird with dramatic results.&nbsp; Meanwhile, the
+Major, roaming round the hall like an imprisoned cyclone, had
+caught sight of and joyfully pounced on the telephone apparatus,
+and lost no time in ringing up the hunt secretary and announcing
+his resignation of the Mastership.&nbsp; A servant had by this
+time brought his horse round to the door, and in a few seconds
+Mrs. Hoopington&rsquo;s shrill monotone had the field to
+itself.&nbsp; But after the Major&rsquo;s display her best
+efforts at vocal violence missed their full effect; it was as
+though one had come straight out from a Wagner opera into a
+rather tame thunderstorm.&nbsp; Realising, perhaps, that her
+tirades were something of an anticlimax, Mrs. Hoopington broke
+suddenly into some rather necessary tears and marched out of the
+room, leaving behind her a silence almost as terrible as the
+turmoil which had preceded it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What shall I do with&mdash;<i>that</i>?&rdquo; asked
+Vladimir at last.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bury it,&rdquo; said Norah.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just plain burial?&rdquo; said Vladimir, rather <!--
+page 84--><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+84</span>relieved.&nbsp; He had almost expected that some of the
+local clergy would have insisted on being present, or that a
+salute might have to be fired over the grave.</p>
+<p>And thus it came to pass that in the dusk of a November
+evening the Russian boy, murmuring a few of the prayers of his
+Church for luck, gave hasty but decent burial to a large polecat
+under the lilac trees at Hoopington.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 85--><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+85</span>THE STRATEGIST</h2>
+<p>Mrs. Jallatt&rsquo;s young people&rsquo;s parties were
+severely exclusive; it came cheaper that way, because you could
+ask fewer to them.&nbsp; Mrs. Jallatt didn&rsquo;t study
+cheapness, but somehow she generally attained it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;ll be about ten girls,&rdquo; speculated
+Rollo, as he drove to the function, &ldquo;and I suppose four
+fellows, unless the Wrotsleys bring their cousin, which Heaven
+forbid.&nbsp; That would mean Jack and me against three of
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rollo and the Wrotsley brethren had maintained an undying feud
+almost from nursery days.&nbsp; They only met now and then in the
+holidays, and the meeting was usually tragic for whichever
+happened to have the fewest backers on hand.&nbsp; Rollo was
+counting to-night on the presence of a devoted and muscular
+partisan to hold an even <!-- page 86--><a
+name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+86</span>balance.&nbsp; As he arrived he heard his prospective
+champion&rsquo;s sister apologising to the hostess for the
+unavoidable absence of her brother; a moment later he noted that
+the Wrotsleys <i>had</i> brought their cousin.</p>
+<p>Two against three would have been exciting and possibly
+unpleasant; one against three promised to be about as amusing as
+a visit to the dentist.&nbsp; Rollo ordered his carriage for as
+early as was decently possible, and faced the company with a
+smile that he imagined the better sort of aristocrat would have
+worn when mounting to the guillotine.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So glad you were able to come,&rdquo; said the elder
+Wrotsley heartily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, you children will like to play games, I
+suppose,&rdquo; said Mrs. Jallatt, by way of giving things a
+start, and as they were too well-bred to contradict her there
+only remained the question of what they were to play at.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know of a good game,&rdquo; said the elder Wrotsley
+innocently.&nbsp; &ldquo;The fellows leave the room and think of
+a word; then they come back again, and the girls have to find out
+what the word is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rollo knew the game.&nbsp; He would have <!-- page 87--><a
+name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 87</span>suggested it
+himself if his faction had been in the majority.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t promise to be very exciting,&rdquo;
+sniffed the superior Dolores Sneep as the boys filed out of the
+room.&nbsp; Rollo thought differently.&nbsp; He trusted to
+Providence that Wrotsley had nothing worse than knotted
+handkerchiefs at his disposal.</p>
+<p>The word-choosers locked themselves in the library to ensure
+that their deliberations should not be interrupted.&nbsp;
+Providence turned out to be not even decently neutral; on a rack
+on the library wall were a dog-whip and a whalebone
+riding-switch.&nbsp; Rollo thought it criminal negligence to
+leave such weapons of precision lying about.&nbsp; He was given a
+choice of evils, and chose the dog-whip; the next minute or so he
+spent in wondering how he could have made such a stupid
+selection.&nbsp; Then they went back to the languidly expectant
+females.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The word&rsquo;s &lsquo;camel,&rsquo;&rdquo; announced
+the Wrotsley cousin blunderingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You stupid!&rdquo; screamed the girls,
+&ldquo;we&rsquo;ve got to <i>guess</i> the word.&nbsp; Now
+you&rsquo;ll have to go back and think of another.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not for worlds,&rdquo; said Rollo; &ldquo;I mean, the
+word isn&rsquo;t really camel; we were rotting.&nbsp; <!-- page
+88--><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+88</span>Pretend it&rsquo;s dromedary!&rdquo; he whispered to the
+others.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I heard them say &lsquo;dromedary&rsquo;!&nbsp; I heard
+them.&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t care what you say; I heard them,&rdquo;
+squealed the odious Dolores.&nbsp; &ldquo;With ears as long as
+hers one would hear anything,&rdquo; thought Rollo savagely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall have to go back, I suppose,&rdquo; said the
+elder Wrotsley resignedly.</p>
+<p>The conclave locked itself once more into the library.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Look here, I&rsquo;m not going through that dog-whip
+business again,&rdquo; protested Rollo.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly not, dear,&rdquo; said the elder Wrotsley;
+&ldquo;we&rsquo;ll try the whalebone switch this time, and
+you&rsquo;ll know which hurts most.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s only by
+personal experience that one finds out these things.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was swiftly borne in upon Rollo that his earlier selection
+of the dog-whip had been a really sound one.&nbsp; The conclave
+gave his under-lip time to steady itself while it debated the
+choice of the necessary word.&nbsp; &ldquo;Mustang&rdquo; was no
+good, as half the girls wouldn&rsquo;t know what it meant;
+finally &ldquo;quagga&rdquo; was pitched on.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must come and sit down over here,&rdquo; chorused
+the investigating committee on <!-- page 89--><a
+name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 89</span>their return;
+but Rollo was obdurate in insisting that the questioned person
+always stood up.&nbsp; On the whole, it was a relief when the
+game was ended and supper was announced.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Jallatt did not stint her young guests, but the more
+expensive delicacies of her supper-table were never unnecessarily
+duplicated, and it was usually good policy to take what you
+wanted while it was still there.&nbsp; On this occasion she had
+provided sixteen peaches to &ldquo;go round&rdquo; among fourteen
+children; it was really not her fault that the two Wrotsleys and
+their cousin, foreseeing the long foodless drive home, had each
+quietly pocketed an extra peach, but it was distinctly trying for
+Dolores and the fat and good-natured Agnes Blaik to be left with
+one peach between them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose we had better halve it,&rdquo; said Dolores
+sourly.</p>
+<p>But Agnes was fat first and good-natured afterwards; those
+were her guiding principles in life.&nbsp; She was profuse in her
+sympathy for Dolores, but she hastily devoured the peach,
+explaining that it would spoil it to divide it; the juice ran out
+so.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now what would you all like to do?&rdquo; <!-- page
+90--><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+90</span>demanded Mrs. Jallatt by way of diversion.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;The professional conjurer whom I had engaged has failed me
+at the last moment.&nbsp; Can any of you recite?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There were symptoms of a general panic.&nbsp; Dolores was
+known to recite &ldquo;Locksley Hall&rdquo; on the least
+provocation.&nbsp; There had been occasions when her opening
+line, &ldquo;Comrades, leave me here a little,&rdquo; had been
+taken as a literal injunction by a large section of her
+hearers.&nbsp; There was a murmur of relief when Rollo hastily
+declared that he could do a few conjuring tricks.&nbsp; He had
+never done one in his life, but those two visits to the library
+had goaded him to unusual recklessness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve seen conjuring chaps take coins and cards
+out of people,&rdquo; he announced; &ldquo;well, I&rsquo;m going
+to take more interesting things out of some of you.&nbsp; Mice,
+for instance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not mice!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A shrill protest rose, as he had foreseen, from the majority
+of his audience.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, fruit, them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The amended proposal was received with approval.&nbsp; Agnes
+positively beamed.</p>
+<p>Without more ado Rollo made straight <!-- page 91--><a
+name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 91</span>for his trio
+of enemies, plunged his hand successively into their
+breast-pockets, and produced three peaches.&nbsp; There was no
+applause, but no amount of hand-clapping would have given the
+performer as much pleasure as the silence which greeted his
+coup.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course, we were in the know,&rdquo; said the
+Wrotsley cousin lamely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s done it,&rdquo; chuckled Rollo to
+himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If they <i>had</i> been confederates they would have
+sworn they knew nothing about it,&rdquo; said Dolores, with
+piercing conviction.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know any more tricks?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Jallatt
+hurriedly.</p>
+<p>Rollo did not.&nbsp; He hinted that he might have changed the
+three peaches into something else, but Agnes had already
+converted one into girl-food, so nothing more could be done in
+that direction.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know a game,&rdquo; said the elder Wrotsley heavily,
+&ldquo;where the fellows go out of the room, and think of some
+character in history; then they come back and act him, and the
+girls have to guess who it&rsquo;s meant for.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I must be going,&rdquo; said Rollo to
+his hostess.</p>
+<p><!-- page 92--><a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+92</span>&ldquo;Your carriage won&rsquo;t be here for another
+twenty minutes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Jallatt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s such a fine evening I think I&rsquo;ll walk
+and meet it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s raining rather steadily at present.&nbsp;
+You&rsquo;ve just time to play that historical game.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We haven&rsquo;t heard Dolores recite,&rdquo; said
+Rollo desperately; as soon as he had said it he realised his
+mistake.&nbsp; Confronted with the alternative of &ldquo;Locksley
+Hall,&rdquo; public opinion declared unanimously for the history
+game.</p>
+<p>Rollo played his last card.&nbsp; In an undertone meant
+apparently for the Wrotsley boy, but carefully pitched to reach
+Agnes, he observed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right, old man; we&rsquo;ll go and finish those
+chocolates we left in the library.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think it&rsquo;s only fair that the girls should take
+their turn in going out,&rdquo; exclaimed Agnes briskly.&nbsp;
+She was great on fairness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; said the others; &ldquo;there are too
+many of us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, four of us can go.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll be one of
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And Agnes darted off towards the library, followed by three
+less eager damsels.</p>
+<p><!-- page 93--><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+93</span>Rollo sank into a chair and smiled ever so faintly at
+the Wrotsleys, just a momentary baring of the teeth; an otter,
+escaping from the fangs of the hounds into the safety of a deep
+pool, might have given a similar demonstration of feelings.</p>
+<p>From the library came the sound of moving furniture.&nbsp;
+Agnes was leaving nothing unturned in her quest for the mythical
+chocolates.&nbsp; And then came a more blessed sound, wheels
+crunching wet gravel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It has been a most enjoyable evening,&rdquo; said Rollo
+to his hostess.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 94--><a name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+94</span>CROSS CURRENTS</h2>
+<p>Vanessa Pennington had a husband who was poor, with few
+extenuating circumstances, and an admirer who, though comfortably
+rich, was cumbered with a sense of honour.&nbsp; His wealth made
+him welcome in Vanessa&rsquo;s eyes, but his code of what was
+right impelled him to go away and forget her, or at the most to
+think of her in the intervals of doing a great many other
+things.&nbsp; And although Alaric Clyde loved Vanessa, and
+thought he should always go on loving her, he gradually and
+unconsciously allowed himself to be wooed and won by a more
+alluring mistress; he fancied that his continued shunning of the
+haunts of men was a self-imposed exile, but his heart was caught
+in the spell of the Wilderness, and the Wilderness was kind and
+beautiful to him.&nbsp; When one is young and strong and
+unfettered the wild earth can be very kind <!-- page 95--><a
+name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 95</span>and very
+beautiful.&nbsp; Witness the legion of men who were once young
+and unfettered and now eat out their souls in dustbins, because,
+having erstwhile known and loved the Wilderness, they broke from
+her thrall and turned aside into beaten paths.</p>
+<p>In the high waste places of the world Clyde roamed and hunted
+and dreamed, death-dealing and gracious as some god of Hellas,
+moving with his horses and servants and four-footed camp
+followers from one dwelling ground to another, a welcome guest
+among wild primitive village folk and nomads, a friend and slayer
+of the fleet, shy beasts around him.&nbsp; By the shores of misty
+upland lakes he shot the wild fowl that had winged their way to
+him across half the old world; beyond Bokhara he watched the wild
+Aryan horsemen at their gambols; watched, too, in some dim-lit
+tea-house one of those beautiful uncouth dances that one can
+never wholly forget; or, making a wide cast down to the valley of
+the Tigris, swam and rolled in its snow-cooled racing
+waters.&nbsp; Vanessa, meanwhile, in a Bayswater back street, was
+making out the weekly laundry list, attending bargain sales, and,
+in her more adventurous moments, trying new ways of cooking
+whiting.&nbsp; <!-- page 96--><a name="page96"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 96</span>Occasionally she went to bridge
+parties, where, if the play was not illuminating, at least one
+learned a great deal about the private life of some of the Royal
+and Imperial Houses.&nbsp; Vanessa, in a way, was glad that Clyde
+had done the proper thing.&nbsp; She had a strong natural bias
+towards respectability, though she would have preferred to have
+been respectable in smarter surroundings, where her example would
+have done more good.&nbsp; To be beyond reproach was one thing,
+but it would have been nicer to have been nearer to the Park.</p>
+<p>And then of a sudden her regard for respectability and
+Clyde&rsquo;s sense of what was right were thrown on the
+scrap-heap of unnecessary things.&nbsp; They had been useful and
+highly important in their time, but the death of Vanessa&rsquo;s
+husband made them of no immediate moment.</p>
+<p>The news of the altered condition of things followed Clyde
+with leisurely persistence from one place of call to another, and
+at last ran him to a standstill somewhere in the Orenburg
+Steppe.&nbsp; He would have found it exceedingly difficult to
+analyse his feelings on receipt of the tidings.&nbsp; The Fates
+had unexpectedly (and perhaps just a little <!-- page 97--><a
+name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>officiously)
+removed an obstacle from his path.&nbsp; He supposed he was
+overjoyed, but he missed the feeling of elation which he had
+experienced some four months ago when he had bagged a
+snow-leopard with a lucky shot after a day&rsquo;s fruitless
+stalking.&nbsp; Of course he would go back and ask Vanessa to
+marry him, but he was determined on enforcing a condition; on no
+account would he desert his newer love.&nbsp; Vanessa would have
+to agree to come out into the Wilderness with him.</p>
+<p>The lady hailed the return of her lover with even more relief
+than had been occasioned by his departure.&nbsp; The death of
+John Pennington had left his widow in circumstances which were
+more straitened than ever, and the Park had receded even from her
+notepaper, where it had long been retained as a courtesy title on
+the principle that addresses are given to us to conceal our
+whereabouts.&nbsp; Certainly she was more independent now than
+heretofore, but independence, which means so much to many women,
+was of little account to Vanessa, who came under the heading of
+the mere female.&nbsp; She made little ado about accepting
+Clyde&rsquo;s condition, and announced herself ready to <!-- page
+98--><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+98</span>follow him to the end of the world; as the world was
+round she nourished a complacent idea that in the ordinary course
+of things one would find oneself in the neighbourhood of Hyde
+Park Corner sooner or later no matter how far afield one
+wandered.</p>
+<p>East of Budapest her complacency began to filter away, and
+when she saw her husband treating the Black Sea with a
+familiarity which she had never been able to assume towards the
+English Channel, misgivings began to crowd in upon her.&nbsp;
+Adventures which would have presented an amusing and enticing
+aspect to a better-bred woman aroused in Vanessa only the twin
+sensations of fright and discomfort.&nbsp; Flies bit her, and she
+was persuaded that it was only sheer boredom that prevented
+camels from doing the same.&nbsp; Clyde did his best, and a very
+good best it was, to infuse something of the banquet into their
+prolonged desert picnics, but even snow-cooled Heidsieck lost its
+flavour when you were convinced that the dusky cupbearer who
+served it with such reverent elegance was only waiting a
+convenient opportunity to cut your throat.&nbsp; It was useless
+for Clyde to give Yussuf a character for devotion such as is
+rarely found in any <!-- page 99--><a name="page99"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 99</span>Western servant.&nbsp; Vanessa was
+well enough educated to know that all dusky-skinned people take
+human life as unconcernedly as Bayswater folk take singing
+lessons.</p>
+<p>And with a growing irritation and querulousness on her part
+came a further disenchantment, born of the inability of husband
+and wife to find a common ground of interest.&nbsp; The habits
+and migrations of the sand grouse, the folklore and customs of
+Tartars and Turkomans, the points of a Cossack pony&mdash;these
+were matter which evoked only a bored indifference in
+Vanessa.&nbsp; On the other hand, Clyde was not thrilled on being
+informed that the Queen of Spain detested mauve, or that a
+certain Royal duchess, for whose tastes he was never likely to be
+called on to cater, nursed a violent but perfectly respectable
+passion for beef olives.</p>
+<p>Vanessa began to arrive at the conclusion that a husband who
+added a roving disposition to a settled income was a mixed
+blessing.&nbsp; It was one thing to go to the end of the world;
+it was quite another thing to make oneself at home there.&nbsp;
+Even respectability seemed to lose some of its virtue when one
+practised it in a tent.</p>
+<p><!-- page 100--><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+100</span>Bored and disillusioned with the drift of her new life,
+Vanessa was undisguisedly glad when distraction offered itself in
+the person of Mr. Dobrinton, a chance acquaintance whom they had
+first run against in the primitive hostelry of a benighted
+Caucasian town.&nbsp; Dobrinton was elaborately British, in
+deference perhaps to the memory of his mother, who was said to
+have derived part of her origin from an English governess who had
+come to Lemberg a long way back in the last century.&nbsp; If you
+had called him Dobrinski when off his guard he would probably
+have responded readily enough; holding, no doubt, that the end
+crowns all, he had taken a slight liberty with the family
+patronymic.&nbsp; To look at, Mr. Dobrinton was not a very
+attractive specimen of masculine humanity, but in Vanessa&rsquo;s
+eyes he was a link with that civilisation which Clyde seemed so
+ready to ignore and forgo.&nbsp; He could sing
+&ldquo;Yip-I-Addy&rdquo; and spoke of several duchesses as if he
+knew them&mdash;in his more inspired moments almost as if they
+knew him.&nbsp; He even pointed out blemishes in the cuisine or
+cellar departments of some of the more august London restaurants,
+a species of Higher Criticism which was listened to <!-- page
+101--><a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 101</span>by
+Vanessa in awe-stricken admiration.&nbsp; And, above all, he
+sympathised, at first discreetly, afterwards with more latitude,
+with her fretful discontent at Clyde&rsquo;s nomadic
+instincts.&nbsp; Business connected with oil-wells had brought
+Dobrinton to the neighbourhood of Baku; the pleasure of appealing
+to an appreciative female audience induced him to deflect his
+return journey so as to coincide a good deal with his new
+aquaintances&rsquo; line of march.&nbsp; And while Clyde
+trafficked with Persian horse-dealers or hunted the wild grey
+pigs in their lairs and added to his notes on Central Asian
+game-fowl, Dobrinton and the lady discussed the ethics of desert
+respectability from points of view that showed a daily tendency
+to converge.&nbsp; And one evening Clyde dined alone, reading
+between the courses a long letter from Vanessa, justifying her
+action in flitting to more civilised lands with a more congenial
+companion.</p>
+<p>It was distinctly evil luck for Vanessa, who really was
+thoroughly respectable at heart, that she and her lover should
+run into the hands of Kurdish brigands on the first day of their
+flight.&nbsp; To be mewed up in a squalid Kurdish village in
+close companionship with a man who was only your husband <!--
+page 102--><a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+102</span>by adoption, and to have the attention of all Europe
+drawn to your plight, was about the least respectable thing that
+could happen.&nbsp; And there were international complications,
+which made things worse.&nbsp; &ldquo;English lady and her
+husband, of foreign nationality, held by Kurdish brigands who
+demand ransom&rdquo; had been the report of the nearest
+Consul.&nbsp; Although Dobrinton was British at heart, the other
+portions of him belonged to the Habsburgs, and though the
+Habsburgs took no great pride or pleasure in this particular unit
+of their wide and varied possessions, and would gladly have
+exchanged him for some interesting bird or mammal for the
+Schoenbrunn Park, the code of international dignity demanded that
+they should display a decent solicitude for his
+restoration.&nbsp; And while the Foreign Offices of the two
+countries were taking the usual steps to secure the release of
+their respective subjects a further horrible complication
+ensued.&nbsp; Clyde, following on the track of the fugitives, not
+with any special desire to overtake them, but with a dim feeling
+that it was expected of him, fell into the hands of the same
+community of brigands.&nbsp; Diplomacy, while anxious to do its
+best for a lady in misfortune, showed signs of becoming restive
+<!-- page 103--><a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+103</span>at this expansion of its task; as a frivolous young
+gentleman in Downing Street remarked, &ldquo;Any husband of Mrs.
+Dobrinton&rsquo;s we shall be glad to extricate, but let us know
+how many there are of them.&rdquo;&nbsp; For a woman who valued
+respectability Vanessa really had no luck.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the situation of the captives was not free from
+embarrassment.&nbsp; When Clyde explained to the Kurdish headmen
+the nature of his relationship with the runaway couple they were
+gravely sympathetic, but vetoed any idea of summary vengeance,
+since the Habsburgs would be sure to insist on the delivery of
+Dobrinton alive, and in a reasonably undamaged condition.&nbsp;
+They did not object to Clyde administering a beating to his rival
+for half an hour every Monday and Thursday, but Dobrinton turned
+such a sickly green when he heard of this arrangement that the
+chief was obliged to withdraw the concession.</p>
+<p>And so, in the cramped quarters of a mountain hut, the
+ill-assorted trio watched the insufferable hours crawl slowly
+by.&nbsp; Dobrinton was too frightened to be conversational,
+Vanessa was too mortified to open her lips, and Clyde was moodily
+silent.&nbsp; <!-- page 104--><a name="page104"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 104</span>The little Limberg
+<i>n&eacute;gociant</i> plucked up heart once to give a quavering
+rendering of &ldquo;Yip-I-Addy,&rdquo; but when he reached the
+statement &ldquo;home was never like this&rdquo; Vanessa
+tearfully begged him to stop.&nbsp; And silence fastened itself
+with growing insistence on the three captives who were so
+tragically herded together; thrice a day they drew near to one
+another to swallow the meal that had been prepared for them, like
+desert beasts meeting in mute suspended hostility at the drinking
+pool, and then drew back to resume the vigil of waiting.</p>
+<p>Clyde was less carefully watched than the others.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Jealousy will keep him to the woman&rsquo;s side,&rdquo;
+thought his Kurdish captors.&nbsp; They did not know that his
+wilder, truer love was calling to him with a hundred voices from
+beyond the village bounds.&nbsp; And one evening, finding that he
+was not getting the attention to which he was entitled, Clyde
+slipped away down the mountain side and resumed his study of
+Central Asian game-fowl.&nbsp; The remaining captives were
+guarded henceforth with greater rigour, but Dobrinton at any rate
+scarcely regretted Clyde&rsquo;s departure.</p>
+<p>The long arm, or perhaps one might better <!-- page 105--><a
+name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 105</span>say the
+long purse, of diplomacy at last effected the release of the
+prisoners, but the Habsburgs were never to enjoy the guerdon of
+their outlay.&nbsp; On the quay of the little Black Sea port,
+where the rescued pair came once more into contact with
+civilisation, Dobrinton was bitten by a dog which was assumed to
+be mad, though it may only have been indiscriminating.&nbsp; The
+victim did not wait for symptoms of rabies to declare themselves,
+but died forthwith of fright, and Vanessa made the homeward
+journey alone, conscious somehow of a sense of slightly restored
+respectability.&nbsp; Clyde, in the intervals of correcting the
+proofs of his book on the game-fowl of Central Asia, found time
+to press a divorce suit through the Courts, and as soon as
+possible hied him away to the congenial solitudes of the Gobi
+Desert to collect material for a work on the fauna of that
+region.&nbsp; Vanessa, by virtue perhaps of her earlier intimacy
+with the cooking rites of the whiting, obtained a place on the
+kitchen staff of a West End club.&nbsp; It was not brilliant, but
+at least it was within two minutes of the Park.</p>
+<h2><!-- page 106--><a name="page106"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 106</span>THE BAKER&rsquo;S DOZEN</h2>
+<p><i>Characters</i>&mdash;</p>
+<p class="gutindent">Major Richard Dumbarton.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">Mrs. Carewe.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">Mrs. Paly-Paget.</p>
+<p><i>Scene</i>&mdash;Deck of eastward-bound steamer.&nbsp; Major
+Dumbarton seated on deck-chair, another chair by his side, with
+the name &ldquo;Mrs. Carewe&rdquo; painted on it, a third near
+by.</p>
+<p>(Enter R. Mrs. Carewe, seats herself leisurely in her
+deck-chair, the Major affecting to ignore her presence.)</p>
+<p><i>Major</i> (turning suddenly): Emily!&nbsp; After all these
+years!&nbsp; This is fate!</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Fate!&nbsp; Nothing of the sort; it&rsquo;s only
+me.&nbsp; You men are always such fatalists.&nbsp; I deferred my
+departure three whole weeks, in order to come out in the same
+boat that I saw you were travelling by.&nbsp; I bribed the
+steward to put out chairs side by side in an <!-- page 107--><a
+name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+107</span>unfrequented corner, and I took enormous pains to be
+looking particularly attractive this morning, and then you say
+&ldquo;This is fate.&rdquo;&nbsp; I am looking particularly
+attractive, am I not?</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: More than ever.&nbsp; Time has only added a
+ripeness to your charms.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: I knew you&rsquo;d put it exactly in those
+words.&nbsp; The phraseology of love-making is awfully limited,
+isn&rsquo;t it?&nbsp; After all, the chief charm is in the fact
+of being made love to.&nbsp; You <i>are</i> making love to me,
+aren&rsquo;t you?</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Emily dearest, I had already begun making
+advances, even before you sat down here.&nbsp; I also bribed the
+steward to put our seats together in a secluded corner.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You may consider it done, sir,&rdquo; was his reply.&nbsp;
+That was immediately after breakfast.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: How like a man to have his breakfast first.&nbsp;
+I attended to the seat business as soon as I left my cabin.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Don&rsquo;t be unreasonable.&nbsp; It was only at
+breakfast that I discovered your blessed presence on the
+boat.&nbsp; I paid violent and unusual attention to a flapper all
+through the meal in order to make you jealous.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s
+probably in her cabin writing reams about me to a fellow-flapper
+at this very moment.</p>
+<p><!-- page 108--><a name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+108</span><i>Em.</i>: You needn&rsquo;t have taken all that
+trouble to make me jealous, Dickie.&nbsp; You did that years ago,
+when you married another woman.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Well, you had gone and married another
+man&mdash;a widower, too, at that.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Well, there&rsquo;s no particular harm in marrying
+a widower, I suppose.&nbsp; I&rsquo;m ready to do it again, if I
+meet a really nice one.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Look here, Emily, it&rsquo;s not fair to go at
+that rate.&nbsp; You&rsquo;re a lap ahead of me the whole
+time.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s my place to propose to you; all
+you&rsquo;ve got to do is to say &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Well, I&rsquo;ve practically said it already, so
+we needn&rsquo;t dawdle over that part.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Oh, well&mdash;</p>
+<p>(They look at each other, then suddenly embrace with
+considerable energy.)</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: We dead-heated it that time.&nbsp; (Suddenly
+jumping to his feet) Oh, d--- I&rsquo;d forgotten!</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Forgotten what?</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: The children.&nbsp; I ought to have told
+you.&nbsp; Do you mind children?</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Not in moderate quantities.&nbsp; How many have
+you got?</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i> (counting hurriedly on his fingers): Five.</p>
+<p><!-- page 109--><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+109</span><i>Em.</i>: Five!</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i> (anxiously): Is that too many?</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: It&rsquo;s rather a number.&nbsp; The worst of it
+is, I&rsquo;ve some myself.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Many?</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Eight.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Eight in six years!&nbsp; Oh, Emily!</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Only four were my own.&nbsp; The other four were
+by my husband&rsquo;s first marriage.&nbsp; Still, that
+practically makes eight.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: And eight and five make thirteen.&nbsp; We
+can&rsquo;t start our married life with thirteen children; it
+would be most unlucky.&nbsp; (Walks up and down in
+agitation.)&nbsp; Some way must be found out of this.&nbsp; If we
+could only bring them down to twelve.&nbsp; Thirteen is so
+horribly unlucky.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Isn&rsquo;t there some way by which we could part
+with one or two? Don&rsquo;t the French want more children?&nbsp;
+I&rsquo;ve often seen articles about it in the <i>Figaro</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: I fancy they want French children.&nbsp; Mine
+don&rsquo;t even speak French.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: There&rsquo;s always a chance that one of them
+might turn out depraved and vicious, and then you could disown
+him.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve heard of that being done.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: But, good gracious, you&rsquo;ve got to <!-- page
+110--><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+110</span>educate him first.&nbsp; You can&rsquo;t expect a boy
+to be vicious till he&rsquo;s been to a good school.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Why couldn&rsquo;t he be naturally depraved?&nbsp;
+Lots of boys are.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Only when they inherit it from depraved
+parents.&nbsp; You don&rsquo;t suppose there&rsquo;s any
+depravity in me, do you?</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: It sometimes skips a generation, you know.&nbsp;
+Weren&rsquo;t any of your family bad?</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: There was an aunt who was never spoken of.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: There you are!</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: But one can&rsquo;t build too much on that.&nbsp;
+In mid-Victorian days they labelled all sorts of things as
+unspeakable that we should speak about quite tolerantly.&nbsp; I
+dare say this particular aunt had only married a Unitarian, or
+rode to hounds on both sides of her horse, or something of that
+sort.&nbsp; Anyhow, we can&rsquo;t wait indefinitely for one of
+the children to take after a doubtfully depraved
+great-aunt.&nbsp; Something else must be thought of.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Don&rsquo;t people ever adopt children from other
+families?</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: I&rsquo;ve heard of it being done by childless
+couples, and those sort of people&mdash;</p>
+<p><!-- page 111--><a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+111</span><i>Em.</i>: Hush!&nbsp; Some one&rsquo;s coming.&nbsp;
+Who is it?</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Mrs. Paly-Paget.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: The very person!</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: What, to adopt a child?&nbsp; Hasn&rsquo;t she
+got any?</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Only one miserable hen-baby.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Let&rsquo;s sound her on the subject.</p>
+<p>(Enter Mrs. Paly-Paget, R.)</p>
+<p>Ah, good morning.&nbsp; Mrs. Paly-Paget.&nbsp; I was just
+wondering at breakfast where did we meet last?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. P.-P.</i>: At the Criterion, wasn&rsquo;t it?</p>
+<p>(Drops into vacant chair.)</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: At the Criterion, of course.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. P.-P.</i>: I was dining with Lord and Lady
+Slugford.&nbsp; Charming people, but so mean.&nbsp; They took us
+afterwards to the Velodrome, to see some dancer interpreting
+Mendelssohn&rsquo;s &ldquo;song without clothes.&rdquo; We were
+all packed up in a little box near the roof, and you may imagine
+how hot it was.&nbsp; It was like a Turkish bath.&nbsp; And, of
+course, one couldn&rsquo;t see anything.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Then it was not like a Turkish bath.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. P.-P.</i>: Major!</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: We were just talking of you when you joined
+us.</p>
+<p><!-- page 112--><a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+112</span><i>Mrs. P.-P.</i>: Really!&nbsp; Nothing very dreadful,
+I hope.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Oh dear, no!&nbsp; It&rsquo;s too early on the
+voyage for that sort of thing.&nbsp; We were feeling rather sorry
+for you.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. P.-P.</i>: Sorry for me?&nbsp; Whatever for?</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Your childless hearth and all that, you
+know.&nbsp; No little pattering feet.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. P.-P.</i>: Major!&nbsp; How dare you?&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve
+got my little girl, I suppose you know.&nbsp; Her feet can patter
+as well as other children&rsquo;s.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Only one pair of feet.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. P.-P.</i>: Certainly.&nbsp; My child isn&rsquo;t a
+centipede.&nbsp; Considering the way they move us about in those
+horrid jungle stations, without a decent bungalow to set
+one&rsquo;s foot in, I consider I&rsquo;ve got a hearthless
+child, rather than a childless hearth.&nbsp; Thank you for your
+sympathy all the same.&nbsp; I dare say it was well meant.&nbsp;
+Impertinence often is.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Dear Mrs. Paly-Paget, we were only feeling sorry
+for your sweet little girl when she grows older, you know.&nbsp;
+No little brothers and sisters to play with.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. P.-P.</i>: Mrs. Carewe, this conversation strikes me
+as being indelicate, to say the least of it.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve
+only been married two and a <!-- page 113--><a
+name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 113</span>half years,
+and my family is naturally a small one.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Isn&rsquo;t it rather an exaggeration to talk of
+one little female child as a family?&nbsp; A family suggests
+numbers.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. P.-P.</i>: Really, Major, you language is
+extraordinary.&nbsp; I dare say I&rsquo;ve only got a little
+female child, as you call it, at present&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Oh, it won&rsquo;t change into a boy later on, if
+that&rsquo;s what you&rsquo;re counting on.&nbsp; Take our word
+for it; we&rsquo;ve had so much more experience in these affairs
+than you have.&nbsp; Once a female, always a female.&nbsp; Nature
+is not infallible, but she always abides by her mistakes.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. P.-P.</i> (rising): Major Dumbarton, these boats are
+uncomfortably small, but I trust we shall find ample
+accommodation for avoiding each other&rsquo;s society during the
+rest of the voyage.&nbsp; The same wish applies to you, Mrs.
+Carewe.</p>
+<p>(Exit Mrs. Paly-Paget, L.)</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: What an unnatural mother!&nbsp; (Sinks into
+chair.)</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: I wouldn&rsquo;t trust a child with any one who
+had a temper like hers.&nbsp; Oh, Dickie, why did you go and have
+such a large family?&nbsp; <!-- page 114--><a
+name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>You always
+said you wanted me to be the mother of your children.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: I wasn&rsquo;t going to wait while you were
+founding and fostering dynasties in other directions.&nbsp; Why
+you couldn&rsquo;t be content to have children of your own,
+without collecting them like batches of postage stamps I
+can&rsquo;t think.&nbsp; The idea of marrying a man with four
+children!</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Well, you&rsquo;re asking me to marry one with
+five.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Five!&nbsp; (Springing to his feet)&nbsp; Did I
+say five?</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: You certainly said five.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Oh, Emily, supposing I&rsquo;ve miscounted
+them!&nbsp; Listen now, keep count with me.&nbsp;
+Richard&mdash;that&rsquo;s after me, of course.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: One.</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Albert-Victor&mdash;that must have been in
+Coronation year.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Two!</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Maud.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s called after&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Never mind who&rsquo;s she&rsquo;s called
+after.&nbsp; Three!</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: And Gerald.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Four!</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: That&rsquo;s the lot.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Are you sure?</p>
+<p><!-- page 115--><a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+115</span><i>Maj.</i>: I swear that&rsquo;s the lot.&nbsp; I must
+have counted Albert-Victor as two.</p>
+<p><i>Em.</i>: Richard!</p>
+<p><i>Maj.</i>: Emily!</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">(They embrace.)</p>
+<h2><!-- page 116--><a name="page116"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 116</span>THE MOUSE</h2>
+<p>Theodoric Voler had been brought up, from infancy to the
+confines of middle age, by a fond mother whose chief solicitude
+had been to keep him screened from what she called the coarser
+realities of life.&nbsp; When she died she left Theodoric alone
+in a world that was as real as ever, and a good deal coarser than
+he considered it had any need to be.&nbsp; To a man of his
+temperament and upbringing even a simple railway journey was
+crammed with petty annoyances and minor discords, and as he
+settled himself down in a second-class compartment one September
+morning he was conscious of ruffled feelings and general mental
+discomposure.&nbsp; He had been staying at a country vicarage,
+the inmates of which had been certainly neither brutal nor
+bacchanalian, but their supervision of the domestic establishment
+had been of that <!-- page 117--><a name="page117"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 117</span>lax order which invites
+disaster.&nbsp; The pony carriage that was to take him to the
+station had never been properly ordered, and when the moment for
+his departure drew near the handy-man who should have produced
+the required article was nowhere to be found.&nbsp; In this
+emergency Theodoric, to his mute but very intense disgust, found
+himself obliged to collaborate with the vicar&rsquo;s daughter in
+the task of harnessing the pony, which necessitated groping about
+in an ill-lighted outhouse called a stable, and smelling very
+like one&mdash;except in patches where it smelt of mice.&nbsp;
+Without being actually afraid of mice, Theodoric classed them
+among the coarser incidents of life, and considered that
+Providence, with a little exercise of moral courage, might long
+ago have recognised that they were not indispensable, and have
+withdrawn them from circulation.&nbsp; As the train glided out of
+the station Theodoric&rsquo;s nervous imagination accused himself
+of exhaling a weak odour of stable-yard, and possibly of
+displaying a mouldy straw or two on his usually well-brushed
+garments.&nbsp; Fortunately the only other occupant of the
+compartment, a lady of about the same age as himself, seemed <!--
+page 118--><a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+118</span>inclined for slumber rather than scrutiny; the train
+was not due to stop till the terminus was reached, in about an
+hour&rsquo;s time, and the carriage was of the old-fashioned
+sort, that held no communication with a corridor, therefore no
+further travelling companions were likely to intrude on
+Theodoric&rsquo;s semi-privacy.&nbsp; And yet the train had
+scarcely attained its normal speed before he became reluctantly
+but vividly aware that he was not alone with the slumbering lady;
+he was not even alone in his own clothes.&nbsp; A warm, creeping
+movement over his flesh betrayed the unwelcome and highly
+resented presence, unseen but poignant, of a strayed mouse, that
+had evidently dashed into its present retreat during the episode
+of the pony harnessing.&nbsp; Furtive stamps and shakes and
+wildly directed pinches failed to dislodge the intruder, whose
+motto, indeed, seemed to be Excelsior; and the lawful occupant of
+the clothes lay back against the cushions and endeavoured rapidly
+to evolve some means for putting an end to the dual
+ownership.&nbsp; It was unthinkable that he should continue for
+the space of a whole hour in the horrible position of a Rowton
+House for vagrant mice (already his imagination <!-- page
+119--><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+119</span>had at least doubled the numbers of the alien
+invasion).&nbsp; On the other hand, nothing less drastic than
+partial disrobing would ease him of his tormentor, and to undress
+in the presence of a lady, even for so laudable a purpose, was an
+idea that made his eartips tingle in a blush of abject
+shame.&nbsp; He had never been able to bring himself even to the
+mild exposure of open-work socks in the presence of the fair
+sex.&nbsp; And yet&mdash;the lady in this case was to all
+appearances soundly and securely asleep; the mouse, on the other
+hand, seemed to be trying to crowd a Wanderjahr into a few
+strenuous minutes.&nbsp; If there is any truth in the theory of
+transmigration, this particular mouse must certainly have been in
+a former state a member of the Alpine Club.&nbsp; Sometimes in
+its eagerness it lost its footing and slipped for half an inch or
+so; and then, in fright, or more probably temper, it bit.&nbsp;
+Theodoric was goaded into the most audacious undertaking of his
+life.&nbsp; Crimsoning to the hue of a beetroot and keeping an
+agonised watch on his slumbering fellow-traveller, he swiftly and
+noiselessly secured the ends of his railway-rug to the racks on
+either side of the carriage, so that a substantial curtain <!--
+page 120--><a name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+120</span>hung athwart the compartment.&nbsp; In the narrow
+dressing-room that he had thus improvised he proceeded with
+violent haste to extricate himself partially and the mouse
+entirely from the surrounding casings of tweed and
+half-wool.&nbsp; As the unravelled mouse gave a wild leap to the
+floor, the rug, slipping its fastening at either end, also came
+down with a heart-curdling flop, and almost simultaneously the
+awakened sleeper opened her eyes.&nbsp; With a movement almost
+quicker than the mouse&rsquo;s, Theodoric pounced on the rug, and
+hauled its ample folds chin-high over his dismantled person as he
+collapsed into the further corner of the carriage.&nbsp; The
+blood raced and beat in the veins of his neck and forehead, while
+he waited dumbly for the communication-cord to be pulled.&nbsp;
+The lady, however, contented herself with a silent stare at her
+strangely muffled companion.&nbsp; How much had she seen,
+Theodoric queried to himself, and in any case what on earth must
+she think of his present posture?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think I have caught a chill,&rdquo; he ventured
+desperately.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Really, I&rsquo;m sorry,&rdquo; she replied.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I was just going to ask you if you would open this
+window.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><!-- page 121--><a name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+121</span>&ldquo;I fancy it&rsquo;s malaria,&rdquo; he added, his
+teeth chattering slightly, as much from fright as from a desire
+to support his theory.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got some brandy in my hold-all, if
+you&rsquo;ll kindly reach it down for me,&rdquo; said his
+companion.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not for worlds&mdash;I mean, I never take anything for
+it,&rdquo; he assured her earnestly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you caught it in the Tropics?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Theodoric, whose acquaintance with the Tropics was limited to
+an annual present of a chest of tea from an uncle in Ceylon, felt
+that even the malaria was slipping from him.&nbsp; Would it be
+possible, he wondered, to disclose the real state of affairs to
+her in small instalments?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you afraid of mice?&rdquo; he ventured, growing, if
+possible, more scarlet in the face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not unless they came in quantities, like those that ate
+up Bishop Hatto.&nbsp; Why do you ask?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I had one crawling inside my clothes just now,&rdquo;
+said Theodoric in a voice that hardly seemed his own.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;It was a most awkward situation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It must have been, if you wear your clothes at all
+tight,&rdquo; she observed; &ldquo;but mice have strange ideas of
+comfort.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><!-- page 122--><a name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+122</span>&ldquo;I had to get rid of it while you were
+asleep,&rdquo; he continued; then, with a gulp, he added,
+&ldquo;it was getting rid of it that brought me to&mdash;to
+this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Surely leaving off one small mouse wouldn&rsquo;t bring
+on a chill,&rdquo; she exclaimed, with a levity that Theodoric
+accounted abominable.</p>
+<p>Evidently she had detected something of his predicament, and
+was enjoying his confusion.&nbsp; All the blood in his body
+seemed to have mobilised in one concentrated blush, and an agony
+of abasement, worse than a myriad mice, crept up and down over
+his soul.&nbsp; And then, as reflection began to assert itself,
+sheer terror took the place of humiliation.&nbsp; With every
+minute that passed the train was rushing nearer to the crowded
+and bustling terminus where dozens of prying eyes would be
+exchanged for the one paralysing pair that watched him from the
+further corner of the carriage.&nbsp; There was one slender
+despairing chance, which the next few minutes must decide.&nbsp;
+His fellow-traveller might relapse into a blessed slumber.&nbsp;
+But as the minutes throbbed by that chance ebbed away.&nbsp; The
+furtive glance which Theodoric stole at her from time <!-- page
+123--><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 123</span>to
+time disclosed only an unwinking wakefulness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think we must be getting near now,&rdquo; she
+presently observed.</p>
+<p>Theodoric had already noted with growing terror the recurring
+stacks of small, ugly dwellings that heralded the journey&rsquo;s
+end.&nbsp; The words acted as a signal.&nbsp; Like a hunted beast
+breaking cover and dashing madly towards some other haven of
+momentary safety he threw aside his rug, and struggled
+frantically into his dishevelled garments.&nbsp; He was conscious
+of dull surburban stations racing past the window, of a choking,
+hammering sensation in his throat and heart, and of an icy
+silence in that corner towards which he dared not look.&nbsp;
+Then as he sank back in his seat, clothed and almost delirious,
+the train slowed down to a final crawl, and the woman spoke.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would you be so kind,&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;as to
+get me a porter to put me into a cab?&nbsp; It&rsquo;s a shame to
+trouble you when you&rsquo;re feeling unwell, but being blind
+makes one so helpless at a railway station.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 124--><a
+name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 124</span><i>Printed
+by</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Morrison &amp; Gibb Limited</span><br />
+<i>Edinburgh</i></p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REGINALD IN RUSSIA***</p>
+<pre>
+
+
+***** This file should be named 1870-h.htm or 1870-h.zip******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/7/1870
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+</pre></body>
+</html>
diff --git a/1870.txt b/1870.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..12c2351
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1870.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2977 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Reginald in Russia, by Saki
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Reginald in Russia
+       and Other Sketches
+
+
+Author: Saki
+
+
+
+Release Date: September 12, 2010  [eBook #1870]
+First Posted: January, 8, 1999
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REGINALD IN RUSSIA***
+
+
+This etext was prepared from the 1910 Methuen and Co. edition by Jane
+Duff; proofed by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf
+
+
+
+
+BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+REGINALD
+
+
+    "He is a delightful person.  One would not like a rich and
+    octogenarian uncle to suppose that Reginald was one's ideal of
+    conduct and conversion.  Yet there is sometimes reason in his
+    paradoxical frivolities, and justice in his practical
+    performances."--_Morning Post_.
+
+    "The book, by reason of its sustained brilliance, may be likened to a
+    Brock's Benefit at the Crystal Palace."--_Athenaeum_.
+
+    "Mr. H. H. Munro ('Saki') has one of the lightest and most
+    entertaining touches of the humorists of the day . . .  The book is
+    admirable comedy and free from malice and bad taste."--_Queen_.
+
+    "We feel sure that those who have already made Reginald's
+    acquaintance will be glad to renew it, and that those who know him
+    not will not regret it if they add him to the list of their
+    fictitious (albeit very real) acquaintances, not to say
+    friends."--_Westminster Gazette_.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               REGINALD IN
+                                  RUSSIA
+
+
+                            AND OTHER SKETCHES
+
+                                    BY
+                                   SAKI
+                              (H. H. MUNRO)
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                              METHUEN & CO.
+                           36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
+                                  LONDON
+
+                        _First Published in 1910_.
+
+                                    TO
+                                 M. V. P.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                         PAGE
+REGINALD IN RUSSIA                          1
+THE RETICENCE OF LADY ANNE                  7
+THE LOST SANJAK                            13
+THE SEX THAT DOESN'T SHOP                  25
+THE BLOOD-FEUD OF TOAD-WATER               31
+A YOUNG TURKISH CATASTROPHE                38
+JUDKIN OF THE PARCELS                      42
+GABRIEL-ERNEST                             47
+THE SAINT AND THE GOBLIN                   60
+THE SOUL OF LAPLOSHKA                      66
+THE BAG                                    75
+THE STRATEGIST                             85
+CROSS CURRENTS                             94
+THE BAKER'S DOZEN (A PLAYLET)             106
+THE MOUSE                                 116
+
+   "_The Baker's Dozen_" _originally appeared in_ "_The Journal of the
+Leinster Regiment_."  _The other sketches have appeared from time to time
+in the_ "_Westminster Gazette_."  _To the Editors of these publications I
+  am indebted for courteous permission to reproduce the stories in their
+                              present form_.
+
+
+
+
+REGINALD IN RUSSIA
+
+
+Reginald sat in a corner of the Princess's salon and tried to forgive the
+furniture, which started out with an obvious intention of being Louis
+Quinze, but relapsed at frequent intervals into Wilhelm II.
+
+He classified the Princess with that distinct type of woman that looks as
+if it habitually went out to feed hens in the rain.
+
+Her name was Olga; she kept what she hoped and believed to be a
+fox-terrier, and professed what she thought were Socialist opinions.  It
+is not necessary to be called Olga if you are a Russian Princess; in
+fact, Reginald knew quite a number who were called Vera; but the
+fox-terrier and the Socialism are essential.
+
+"The Countess Lomshen keeps a bull-dog," said the Princess suddenly.  "In
+England is it more chic to have a bull-dog than a fox-terrier?"
+
+Reginald threw his mind back over the canine fashions of the last ten
+years and gave an evasive answer.
+
+"Do you think her handsome, the Countess Lomshen?" asked the Princess.
+
+Reginald thought the Countess's complexion suggested an exclusive diet of
+macaroons and pale sherry.  He said so.
+
+"But that cannot be possible," said the Princess triumphantly; "I've seen
+her eating fish-soup at Donon's."
+
+The Princess always defended a friend's complexion if it was really bad.
+With her, as with a great many of her sex, charity began at homeliness
+and did not generally progress much farther.
+
+Reginald withdrew his macaroon and sherry theory, and became interested
+in a case of miniatures.
+
+"That?" said the Princess; "that is the old Princess Lorikoff.  She lived
+in Millionaya Street, near the Winter Palace, and was one of the Court
+ladies of the old Russian school.  Her knowledge of people and events was
+extremely limited; but she used to patronise every one who came in
+contact with her.  There was a story that when she died and left the
+Millionaya for Heaven she addressed St. Peter in her formal staccato
+French: 'Je suis la Princesse Lor-i-koff.  Il me donne grand plaisir a
+faire votre connaissance.  Je vous en prie me presenter au Bon Dieu.'
+St. Peter made the desired introduction, and the Princess addressed le
+Bon Dieu: 'Je suis la Princesse Lor-i-koff.  Il me donne grand plaisir a
+faire votre connaissance.  On a souvent parle de vous a l'eglise de la
+rue Million.'"
+
+"Only the old and the clergy of Established churches know how to be
+flippant gracefully," commented Reginald; "which reminds me that in the
+Anglican Church in a certain foreign capital, which shall be nameless, I
+was present the other day when one of the junior chaplains was preaching
+in aid of distressed somethings or other, and he brought a really
+eloquent passage to a close with the remark, 'The tears of the afflicted,
+to what shall I liken them--to diamonds?'  The other junior chaplain, who
+had been dozing out of professional jealousy, awoke with a start and
+asked hurriedly, 'Shall I play to diamonds, partner?'  It didn't improve
+matters when the senior chaplain remarked dreamily but with painful
+distinctness, 'Double diamonds.'  Every one looked at the preacher, half
+expecting him to redouble, but he contented himself with scoring what
+points he could under the circumstances."
+
+"You English are always so frivolous," said the Princess.  "In Russia we
+have too many troubles to permit of our being light-hearted."
+
+Reginald gave a delicate shiver, such as an Italian greyhound might give
+in contemplating the approach of an ice age of which he personally
+disapproved, and resigned himself to the inevitable political discussion.
+
+"Nothing that you hear about us in England is true," was the Princess's
+hopeful beginning.
+
+"I always refused to learn Russian geography at school," observed
+Reginald; "I was certain some of the names must be wrong."
+
+"Everything is wrong with our system of government," continued the
+Princess placidly.  "The Bureaucrats think only of their pockets, and the
+people are exploited and plundered in every direction, and everything is
+mismanaged."
+
+"With us," said Reginald, "a Cabinet usually gets the credit of being
+depraved and worthless beyond the bounds of human conception by the time
+it has been in office about four years."
+
+"But if it is a bad Government you can turn it out at the elections,"
+argued the Princess.
+
+"As far as I remember, we generally do," said Reginald.
+
+"But here it is dreadful, every one goes to such extremes.  In England
+you never go to extremes."
+
+"We go to the Albert Hall," explained Reginald.
+
+"There is always a see-saw with us between repression and violence,"
+continued the Princess; "and the pity of it is the people are really not
+in the least inclined to be anything but peaceable.  Nowhere will you
+find people more good-natured, or family circles where there is more
+affection."
+
+"There I agree with you," said Reginald.  "I know a boy who lives
+somewhere on the French Quay who is a case in point.  His hair curls
+naturally, especially on Sundays, and he plays bridge well, even for a
+Russian, which is saying much.  I don't think he has any other
+accomplishments, but his family affection is really of a very high order.
+When his maternal grandmother died he didn't go as far as to give up
+bridge altogether, but he declared on nothing but black suits for the
+next three months.  That, I think, was really beautiful."
+
+The Princess was not impressed.
+
+"I think you must be very self-indulgent and live only for amusement,"
+she said, "a life of pleasure-seeking and card-playing and dissipation
+brings only dissatisfaction.  You will find that out some day."
+
+"Oh, I know it turns out that way sometimes," assented Reginald.
+"Forbidden fizz is often the sweetest."
+
+But the remark was wasted on the Princess, who preferred champagne that
+had at least a suggestion of dissolved barley-sugar.
+
+"I hope you will come and see me again," she said, in a tone that
+prevented the hope from becoming too infectious; adding as a happy
+afterthought, "you must come to stay with us in the country."
+
+Her particular part of the country was a few hundred versts the other
+side of Tamboff, with some fifteen miles of agrarian disturbance between
+her and the nearest neighbour.  Reginald felt that there is some privacy
+which should be sacred from intrusion.
+
+
+
+
+THE RETICENCE OF LADY ANNE
+
+
+Egbert came into the large, dimly lit drawing-room with the air of a man
+who is not certain whether he is entering a dovecote or a bomb factory,
+and is prepared for either eventuality.  The little domestic quarrel over
+the luncheon-table had not been fought to a definite finish, and the
+question was how far Lady Anne was in a mood to renew or forgo
+hostilities.  Her pose in the arm-chair by the tea-table was rather
+elaborately rigid; in the gloom of a December afternoon Egbert's
+pince-nez did not materially help him to discern the expression of her
+face.
+
+By way of breaking whatever ice might be floating on the surface he made
+a remark about a dim religious light.  He or Lady Anne were accustomed to
+make that remark between 4.30 and 6 on winter and late autumn evenings;
+it was a part of their married life.  There was no recognised rejoinder
+to it, and Lady Anne made none.
+
+Don Tarquinio lay astretch on the Persian rug, basking in the firelight
+with superb indifference to the possible ill-humour of Lady Anne.  His
+pedigree was as flawlessly Persian as the rug, and his ruff was coming
+into the glory of its second winter.  The page-boy, who had Renaissance
+tendencies, had christened him Don Tarquinio.  Left to themselves, Egbert
+and Lady Anne would unfailingly have called him Fluff, but they were not
+obstinate.
+
+Egbert poured himself out some tea.  As the silence gave no sign of
+breaking on Lady Anne's initiative, he braced himself for another Yermak
+effort.
+
+"My remark at lunch had a purely academic application," he announced;
+"you seem to put an unnecessarily personal significance into it."
+
+Lady Anne maintained her defensive barrier of silence.  The bullfinch
+lazily filled in the interval with an air from _Iphigenie en Tauride_.
+Egbert recognised it immediately, because it was the only air the
+bullfinch whistled, and he had come to them with the reputation for
+whistling it.  Both Egbert and Lady Anne would have preferred something
+from _The Yeomen of the Guard_, which was their favourite opera.  In
+matters artistic they had a similarity of taste.  They leaned towards the
+honest and explicit in art, a picture, for instance, that told its own
+story, with generous assistance from its title.  A riderless warhorse
+with harness in obvious disarray, staggering into a courtyard full of
+pale swooning women, and marginally noted "Bad News", suggested to their
+minds a distinct interpretation of some military catastrophe.  They could
+see what it was meant to convey, and explain it to friends of duller
+intelligence.
+
+The silence continued.  As a rule Lady Anne's displeasure became
+articulate and markedly voluble after four minutes of introductory
+muteness.  Egbert seized the milk-jug and poured some of its contents
+into Don Tarquinio's saucer; as the saucer was already full to the brim
+an unsightly overflow was the result.  Don Tarquinio looked on with a
+surprised interest that evanesced into elaborate unconsciousness when he
+was appealed to by Egbert to come and drink up some of the spilt matter.
+Don Tarquinio was prepared to play many roles in life, but a vacuum
+carpet-cleaner was not one of them.
+
+"Don't you think we're being rather foolish?" said Egbert cheerfully.
+
+If Lady Anne thought so she didn't say so.
+
+"I dare say the fault has been partly on my side," continued Egbert, with
+evaporating cheerfulness.  "After all, I'm only human, you know.  You
+seem to forget that I'm only human."
+
+He insisted on the point, as if there had been unfounded suggestions that
+he was built on Satyr lines, with goat continuations where the human left
+off.
+
+The bullfinch recommenced its air from _Iphigenie en Tauride_.  Egbert
+began to feel depressed.  Lady Anne was not drinking her tea.  Perhaps
+she was feeling unwell.  But when Lady Anne felt unwell she was not wont
+to be reticent on the subject.  "No one knows what I suffer from
+indigestion" was one of her favourite statements; but the lack of
+knowledge can only have been caused by defective listening; the amount of
+information available on the subject would have supplied material for a
+monograph.
+
+Evidently Lady Anne was not feeling unwell.
+
+Egbert began to think he was being unreasonably dealt with; naturally he
+began to make concessions.
+
+"I dare say," he observed, taking as central a position on the hearth-rug
+as Don Tarquinio could be persuaded to concede him, "I may have been to
+blame.  I am willing, if I can thereby restore things to a happier
+standpoint, to undertake to lead a better life."
+
+He wondered vaguely how it would be possible.  Temptations came to him,
+in middle age, tentatively and without insistence, like a neglected
+butcher-boy who asks for a Christmas box in February for no more hopeful
+reason that than he didn't get one in December.  He had no more idea of
+succumbing to them than he had of purchasing the fish-knives and fur boas
+that ladies are impelled to sacrifice through the medium of advertisement
+columns during twelve months of the year.  Still, there was something
+impressive in this unasked-for renunciation of possibly latent
+enormities.
+
+Lady Anne showed no sign of being impressed.
+
+Egbert looked at her nervously through his glasses.  To get the worst of
+an argument with her was no new experience.  To get the worst of a
+monologue was a humiliating novelty.
+
+"I shall go and dress for diner," he announced in a voice into which he
+intended some shade of sternness to creep.
+
+At the door a final access of weakness impelled him to make a further
+appeal.
+
+"Aren't we being very silly?"
+
+"A fool" was Don Tarquinio's mental comment as the door closed on
+Egbert's retreat.  Then he lifted his velvet forepaws in the air and
+leapt lightly on to a bookshelf immediately under the bullfinch's cage.
+It was the first time he had seemed to notice the bird's existence, but
+he was carrying out a long-formed theory of action with the precision of
+mature deliberation.  The bullfinch, who had fancied himself something of
+a despot, depressed himself of a sudden into a third of his normal
+displacement; then he fell to a helpless wing-beating and shrill
+cheeping.  He had cost twenty-seven shillings without the cage, but Lady
+Anne made no sign of interfering.  She had been dead for two hours.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOST SANJAK
+
+
+The prison Chaplain entered the condemned's cell for the last time, to
+give such consolation as he might.
+
+"The only consolation I crave for," said the condemned, "is to tell my
+story in its entirety to some one who will at least give it a respectful
+hearing."
+
+"We must not be too long over it," said the Chaplain, looking at his
+watch.
+
+The condemned repressed a shiver and commenced.
+
+"Most people will be of opinion that I am paying the penalty of my own
+violent deeds.  In reality I am a victim to a lack of specialisation in
+my education and character."
+
+"Lack of specialisation!" said the Chaplain.
+
+"Yes.  If I had been known as one of the few men in England familiar with
+the fauna of the Outer Hebrides, or able to repeat stanzas of Camoens'
+poetry in the original, I should have had no difficulty in proving my
+identity in the crisis when my identity became a matter of life and death
+for me.  But my education was merely a moderately good one, and my
+temperament was of the general order that avoids specialisation.  I know
+a little in a general way about gardening and history and old masters,
+but I could never tell you off-hand whether 'Stella van der Loopen' was a
+chrysanthemum or a heroine of the American War of Independence, or
+something by Romney in the Louvre."
+
+The Chaplain shifted uneasily in his seat.  Now that the alternatives had
+been suggested they all seemed dreadfully possible.
+
+"I fell in love, or thought I did, with the local doctor's wife,"
+continued the condemned.  "Why I should have done so, I cannot say, for I
+do not remember that she possessed any particular attractions of mind or
+body.  On looking back at past events if seems to me that she must have
+been distinctly ordinary, but I suppose the doctor had fallen in love
+with her once, and what man had done man can do.  She appeared to be
+pleased with the attentions which I paid her, and to that extent I
+suppose I might say she encouraged me, but I think she was honestly
+unaware that I meant anything more than a little neighbourly interest.
+When one is face to face with Death one wishes to be just."
+
+The Chaplain murmured approval.  "At any rate, she was genuinely
+horrified when I took advantage of the doctor's absence one evening to
+declare what I believed to be my passion.  She begged me to pass out of
+her life, and I could scarcely do otherwise than agree, though I hadn't
+the dimmest idea of how it was to be done.  In novels and plays I knew it
+was a regular occurrence, and if you mistook a lady's sentiments or
+intentions you went off to India and did things on the frontier as a
+matter of course.  As I stumbled along the doctor's carriage-drive I had
+no very clear idea as to what my line of action was to be, but I had a
+vague feeling that I must look at the _Times_ Atlas before going to bed.
+Then, on the dark and lonely highway, I came suddenly on a dead body."
+
+The Chaplain's interest in the story visibly quickened.
+
+"Judging by the clothes it wore, the corpse was that of a Salvation Army
+captain.  Some shocking accident seemed to have struck him down, and the
+head was crushed and battered out of all human semblance.  Probably, I
+thought, a motor-car fatality; and then, with a sudden overmastering
+insistence, came another thought, that here was a remarkable opportunity
+for losing my identity and passing out of the life of the doctor's wife
+for ever.  No tiresome and risky voyage to distant lands, but a mere
+exchange of clothes and identity with the unknown victim of an
+unwitnessed accident.  With considerable difficulty I undressed the
+corpse, and clothed it anew in my own garments.  Any one who has valeted
+a dead Salvation Army captain in an uncertain light will appreciate the
+difficulty.  With the idea, presumably, of inducing the doctor's wife to
+leave her husband's roof-tree for some habitation which would be run at
+my expense, I had crammed my pockets with a store of banknotes, which
+represented a good deal of my immediate worldly wealth.  When, therefore,
+I stole away into the world in the guise of a nameless Salvationist, I
+was not without resources which would easily support so humble a role for
+a considerable period.  I tramped to a neighbouring market-town, and,
+late as the hour was, the production of a few shillings procured me
+supper and a night's lodging in a cheap coffee-house.  The next day I
+started forth on an aimless course of wandering from one small town to
+another.  I was already somewhat disgusted with the upshot of my sudden
+freak; in a few hours' time I was considerably more so.  In the
+contents-bill of a local news sheet I read the announcement of my own
+murder at the hands of some person unknown; on buying a copy of the paper
+for a detailed account of the tragedy, which at first had aroused in me a
+certain grim amusement, I found that the deed ascribed to a wandering
+Salvationist of doubtful antecedents, who had been seen lurking in the
+roadway near the scene of the crime.  I was no longer amused.  The matter
+promised to be embarrassing.  What I had mistaken for a motor accident
+was evidently a case of savage assault and murder, and, until the real
+culprit was found, I should have much difficulty in explaining my
+intrusion into the affair.  Of course I could establish my own identity;
+but how, without disagreeably involving the doctor's wife, could I give
+any adequate reason for changing clothes with the murdered man?  While my
+brain worked feverishly at this problem, I subconsciously obeyed a
+secondary instinct--to get as far away as possible from the scene of the
+crime, and to get rid at all costs of my incriminating uniform.  There I
+found a difficulty.  I tried two or three obscure clothes shops, but my
+entrance invariably aroused an attitude of hostile suspicion in the
+proprietors, and on one excuse or another they avoided serving me with
+the now ardently desired change of clothing.  The uniform that I had so
+thoughtlessly donned seemed as difficult to get out of as the fatal shirt
+of--You know, I forget the creature's name."
+
+"Yes, yes," said the Chaplain hurriedly.  "Go on with your story."
+
+"Somehow, until I could get out of those compromising garments, I felt it
+would not be safe to surrender myself to the police.  The thing that
+puzzled me was why no attempt was made to arrest me, since there was no
+question as to the suspicion which followed me, like an inseparable
+shadow, wherever I went.  Stares, nudgings, whisperings, and even
+loud-spoken remarks of 'that's 'im' greeted my every appearance, and the
+meanest and most deserted eating-house that I patronised soon became
+filled with a crowd of furtively watching customers.  I began to
+sympathise with the feeling of Royal personages trying to do a little
+private shopping under the unsparing scrutiny of an irrepressible public.
+And still, with all this inarticulate shadowing, which weighed on my
+nerves almost worse than open hostility would have done, no attempt was
+made to interfere with my liberty.  Later on I discovered the reason.  At
+the time of the murder on the lonely highway a series of important
+bloodhound trials had been taking place in the near neighbourhood, and
+some dozen and a half couples of trained animals had been put on the
+track of the supposed murderer--on my track.  One of our most
+public-spirited London dailies had offered a princely prize to the owner
+of the pair that should first track me down, and betting on the chances
+of the respective competitors became rife throughout the land.  The dogs
+ranged far and wide over about thirteen counties, and though my own
+movements had become by this time perfectly well-known to police and
+public alike, the sporting instincts of the nation stepped in to prevent
+my premature arrest.  "Give the dogs a chance," was the prevailing
+sentiment, whenever some ambitious local constable wished to put an end
+to my drawn-out evasion of justice.  My final capture by the winning pair
+was not a very dramatic episode, in fact, I'm not sure that they would
+have taken any notice of me if I hadn't spoken to them and patted them,
+but the event gave rise to an extraordinary amount of partisan
+excitement.  The owner of the pair who were next nearest up at the finish
+was an American, and he lodged a protest on the ground that an otterhound
+had married into the family of the winning pair six generations ago, and
+that the prize had been offered to the first pair of bloodhounds to
+capture the murderer, and that a dog that had 1/64th part of otterhound
+blood in it couldn't technically be considered a bloodhound.  I forget
+how the matter was ultimately settled, but it aroused a tremendous amount
+of acrimonious discussion on both sides of the Atlantic.  My own
+contribution to the controversy consisted in pointing out that the whole
+dispute was beside the mark, as the actual murderer had not yet been
+captured; but I soon discovered that on this point there was not the
+least divergence of public or expert opinion.  I had looked forward
+apprehensively to the proving of my identity and the establishment of my
+motives as a disagreeable necessity; I speedily found out that the most
+disagreeable part of the business was that it couldn't be done.  When I
+saw in the glass the haggard and hunted expression which the experiences
+of the past few weeks had stamped on my erstwhile placid countenance, I
+could scarcely feel surprised that the few friends and relations I
+possessed refused to recognise me in my altered guise, and persisted in
+their obstinate but widely shared belief that it was I who had been done
+to death on the highway.  To make matters worse, infinitely worse, an
+aunt of the really murdered man, an appalling female of an obviously low
+order of intelligence, identified me as her nephew, and gave the
+authorities a lurid account of my depraved youth and of her laudable but
+unavailing efforts to spank me into a better way.  I believe it was even
+proposed to search me for fingerprints."
+
+"But," said the Chaplain, "surely your educational attainments--"
+
+"That was just the crucial point," said the condemned; "that was where my
+lack of specialisation told so fatally against me.  The dead
+Salvationist, whose identity I had so lightly and so disastrously
+adopted, had possessed a veneer of cheap modern education.  It should
+have been easy to demonstrate that my learning was on altogether another
+plane to his, but in my nervousness I bungled miserably over test after
+test that was put to me.  The little French I had ever known deserted me;
+I could not render a simple phrase about the gooseberry of the gardener
+into that language, because I had forgotten the French for gooseberry."
+
+The Chaplain again wriggled uneasily in his seat.  "And then," resumed
+the condemned, "came the final discomfiture.  In our village we had a
+modest little debating club, and I remembered having promised, chiefly, I
+suppose, to please and impress the doctor's wife, to give a sketchy kind
+of lecture on the Balkan Crisis.  I had relied on being able to get up my
+facts from one or two standard works, and the back-numbers of certain
+periodicals.  The prosecution had made a careful note of the circumstance
+that the man whom I claimed to be--and actually was--had posed locally as
+some sort of second-hand authority on Balkan affairs, and, in the midst
+of a string of questions on indifferent topics, the examining counsel
+asked me with a diabolical suddenness if I could tell the Court the
+whereabouts of Novibazar.  I felt the question to be a crucial one;
+something told me that the answer was St. Petersburg or Baker Street.  I
+hesitated, looked helplessly round at the sea of tensely expectant faces,
+pulled myself together, and chose Baker Street.  And then I knew that
+everything was lost.  The prosecution had no difficulty in demonstrating
+that an individual, even moderately versed in the affairs of the Near
+East, could never have so unceremoniously dislocated Novibazar from its
+accustomed corner of the map.  It was an answer which the Salvation Army
+captain might conceivably have made--and I made it.  The circumstantial
+evidence connecting the Salvationist with the crime was overwhelmingly
+convincing, and I had inextricably identified myself with the
+Salvationist.  And thus it comes to pass that in ten minutes' time I
+shall be hanged by the neck until I am dead in expiation of the murder of
+myself, which murder never took place, and of which, in any case, I am
+innocent."
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+When the Chaplain returned to his quarters some fifteen minutes later,
+the black flag was floating over the prison tower.  Breakfast was waiting
+for him in the dining-room, but he first passed into his library, and,
+taking up the _Times_ Atlas, consulted a map of the Balkan Peninsula.  "A
+thing like that," he observed, closing the volume with a snap, "might
+happen to any one."
+
+
+
+
+THE SEX THAT DOESN'T SHOP
+
+
+The opening of a large new centre for West End shopping, particularly
+feminine shopping, suggests the reflection, Do women ever really shop?
+Of course, it is a well-attested fact that they go forth shopping as
+assiduously as a bee goes flower-visiting, but do they shop in the
+practical sense of the word?  Granted the money, time, and energy, a
+resolute course of shopping transactions would naturally result in having
+one's ordinary domestic needs unfailingly supplied, whereas it is
+notorious that women servants (and housewives of all classes) make it
+almost a point of honour not to be supplied with everyday necessities.
+"We shall be out of starch by Thursday," they say with fatalistic
+foreboding, and by Thursday they are out of starch.  They have predicted
+almost to a minute the moment when their supply would give out and if
+Thursday happens to be early closing day their triumph is complete.  A
+shop where starch is stored for retail purposes possibly stands at their
+very door, but the feminine mind has rejected such an obvious source for
+replenishing a dwindling stock.  "We don't deal there" places it at once
+beyond the pale of human resort.  And it is noteworthy that, just as a
+sheep-worrying dog seldom molests the flocks in his near neighbourhood,
+so a woman rarely deals with shops in her immediate vicinity.  The more
+remote the source of supply the more fixed seems to be the resolve to run
+short of the commodity.  The Ark had probably not quitted its last
+moorings five minutes before some feminine voice gloatingly recorded a
+shortage of bird-seed.  A few days ago two lady acquaintances of mine
+were confessing to some mental uneasiness because a friend had called
+just before lunch-time, and they had been unable to ask her to stop and
+share their meal, as (with a touch of legitimate pride) "there was
+nothing in the house."  I pointed out that they lived in a street that
+bristled with provision shops and that it would have been easy to
+mobilise a very passable luncheon in less than five minutes.  "That,"
+they said with quiet dignity, "would not have occurred to us," and I felt
+that I had suggested something bordering on the indecent.
+
+But it is in catering for her literary wants that a woman's shopping
+capacity breaks down most completely.  If you have perchance produced a
+book which has met with some little measure of success, you are certain
+to get a letter from some lady whom you scarcely known to bow to, asking
+you "how it can be got."  She knows the name of the book, its author, and
+who published it, but how to get into actual contact with it is still an
+unsolved problem to her.  You write back pointing out that to have
+recourse to an ironmonger or a corn-dealer will only entail delay and
+disappointment, and suggest an application to a bookseller as the most
+hopeful thing you can think of.  In a day or two she writes again: "It is
+all right; I have borrowed it from your aunt."  Here, of course, we have
+an example of the Beyond-Shopper, one who has learned the Better Way, but
+the helplessness exists even when such bypaths of relief are closed.  A
+lady who lives in the West End was expressing to me the other day her
+interest in West Highland terriers, and her desire to know more about the
+breed, so when, a few days later, I came across an exhaustive article on
+that subject in the current number of one of our best known outdoor-life
+weeklies, I mentioned that circumstance in a letter, giving the date of
+that number.  "I cannot get the paper," was her telephoned response.  And
+she couldn't.  She lived in a city where newsagents are numbered, I
+suppose, by the thousand, and she must have passed dozens of such shops
+in her daily shopping excursions, but as far as she was concerned that
+article on West Highland terriers might as well have been written in a
+missal stored away in some Buddhist monastery in Eastern Thibet.
+
+The brutal directness of the masculine shopper arouses a certain
+combative derision in the feminine onlooker.  A cat that spreads one
+shrew-mouse over the greater part of a long summer afternoon, and then
+possibly loses him, doubtless feels the same contempt for the terrier who
+compresses his rat into ten seconds of the strenuous life.  I was
+finishing off a short list of purchases a few afternoons ago when I was
+discovered by a lady of my acquaintance whom, swerving aside from the
+lead given us by her godparents thirty years ago, we will call Agatha.
+
+"You're surely not buying blotting-paper _here_?" she exclaimed in an
+agitated whisper, and she seemed so genuinely concerned that I stayed my
+hand.
+
+"Let me take you to Winks and Pinks," she said as soon as we were out of
+the building: "they've got such lovely shades of blotting-paper--pearl
+and heliotrope and _momie_ and crushed--"
+
+"But I want ordinary white blotting-paper," I said.
+
+"Never mind.  They know me at Winks and Pinks," she replied
+inconsequently.  Agatha apparently has an idea that blotting-paper is
+only sold in small quantities to persons of known reputation, who may be
+trusted not to put it to dangerous or improper uses.  After walking some
+two hundred yards she began to feel that her tea was of more immediate
+importance than my blotting-paper.
+
+"What do you want blotting-paper for?" she asked suddenly.  I explained
+patiently.
+
+"I use it to dry up the ink of wet manuscript without smudging the
+writing.  Probably a Chinese invention of the second century before
+Christ, but I'm not sure.  The only other use for it that I can think of
+is to roll it into a ball for a kitten to play with."
+
+"But you haven't got a kitten," said Agatha, with a feminine desire for
+stating the entire truth on most occasions.
+
+"A stray one might come in at any moment," I replied.
+
+Anyway, I didn't get the blotting-paper.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLOOD-FEUD OF TOAD-WATER
+A WEST-COUNTRY EPIC
+
+
+The Cricks lived at Toad-Water; and in the same lonely upland spot Fate
+had pitched the home of the Saunderses, and for miles around these two
+dwellings there was never a neighbour or a chimney or even a
+burying-ground to bring a sense of cheerful communion or social
+intercourse.  Nothing but fields and spinneys and barns, lanes and
+waste-lands.  Such was Toad-Water; and, even so, Toad-Water had its
+history.
+
+Thrust away in the benighted hinterland of a scattered market district,
+it might have been supposed that these two detached items of the Great
+Human Family would have leaned towards one another in a fellowship
+begotten of kindred circumstances and a common isolation from the outer
+world.  And perhaps it had been so once, but the way of things had
+brought it otherwise.  Indeed, otherwise.  Fate, which had linked the two
+families in such unavoidable association of habitat, had ordained that
+the Crick household should nourish and maintain among its earthly
+possessions sundry head of domestic fowls, while to the Saunderses was
+given a disposition towards the cultivation of garden crops.  Herein lay
+the material, ready to hand, for the coming of feud and ill-blood.  For
+the grudge between the man of herbs and the man of live stock is no new
+thing; you will find traces of it in the fourth chapter of Genesis.  And
+one sunny afternoon in late spring-time the feud came--came, as such
+things mostly do come, with seeming aimlessness and triviality.  One of
+the Crick hens, in obedience to the nomadic instincts of her kind,
+wearied of her legitimate scratching-ground, and flew over the low wall
+that divided the holdings of the neighbours.  And there, on the yonder
+side, with a hurried consciousness that her time and opportunities might
+be limited, the misguided bird scratched and scraped and beaked and
+delved in the soft yielding bed that had been prepared for the solace and
+well-being of a colony of seedling onions.  Little showers of earth-mould
+and root-fibres went spraying before the hen and behind her, and every
+minute the area of her operations widened.  The onions suffered
+considerably.  Mrs. Saunders, sauntering at this luckless moment down the
+garden path, in order to fill her soul with reproaches at the iniquity of
+the weeds, which grew faster than she or her good man cared to remove
+them, stopped in mute discomfiture before the presence of a more
+magnificent grievance.  And then, in the hour of her calamity, she turned
+instinctively to the Great Mother, and gathered in her capacious hands
+large clods of the hard brown soil that lay at her feet.  With a terrible
+sincerity of purpose, though with a contemptible inadequacy of aim, she
+rained her earth bolts at the marauder, and the bursting pellets called
+forth a flood of cackling protest and panic from the hastily departing
+fowl.  Calmness under misfortune is not an attribute of either hen-folk
+or womenkind, and while Mrs. Saunders declaimed over her onion bed such
+portions of the slang dictionary as are permitted by the Nonconformist
+conscience to be said or sung, the Vasco da Gama fowl was waking the
+echoes of Toad-Water with crescendo bursts of throat music which
+compelled attention to her griefs.  Mrs. Crick had a long family, and was
+therefore licensed, in the eyes of her world, to have a short temper, and
+when some of her ubiquitous offspring had informed her, with the
+authority of eye-witnesses, that her neighbour had so far forgotten
+herself as to heave stones at her hen--her best hen, the best layer in
+the countryside--her thoughts clothed themselves in language "unbecoming
+to a Christian woman"--so at least said Mrs. Saunders, to whom most of
+the language was applied.  Nor was she, on her part, surprised at Mrs.
+Crick's conduct in letting her hens stray into other body's gardens, and
+then abusing of them, seeing as how she remembered things against Mrs.
+Crick--and the latter simultaneously had recollections of lurking
+episodes in the past of Susan Saunders that were nothing to her credit.
+"Fond memory, when all things fade we fly to thee," and in the paling
+light of an April afternoon the two women confronted each other from
+their respective sides of the party wall, recalling with shuddering
+breath the blots and blemishes of their neighbour's family record.  There
+was that aunt of Mrs. Crick's who had died a pauper in Exeter
+workhouse--every one knew that Mrs. Saunders' uncle on her mother's side
+drank himself to death--then there was that Bristol cousin of Mrs.
+Crick's!  From the shrill triumph with which his name was dragged in, his
+crime must have been pilfering from a cathedral at least, but as both
+remembrancers were speaking at once it was difficult to distinguish his
+infamy from the scandal which beclouded the memory of Mrs. Saunders'
+brother's wife's mother--who may have been a regicide, and was certainly
+not a nice person as Mrs. Crick painted her.  And then, with an air of
+accumulating and irresistible conviction, each belligerent informed the
+other that she was no lady--after which they withdrew in a great silence,
+feeling that nothing further remained to be said.  The chaffinches
+clinked in the apple trees and the bees droned round the berberis bushes,
+and the waning sunlight slanted pleasantly across the garden plots, but
+between the neighbour households had sprung up a barrier of hate,
+permeating and permanent.
+
+The male heads of the families were necessarily drawn into the quarrel,
+and the children on either side were forbidden to have anything to do
+with the unhallowed offspring of the other party.  As they had to travel
+a good three miles along the same road to school every day, this was
+awkward, but such things have to be.  Thus all communication between the
+households was sundered.  Except the cats.  Much as Mrs. Saunders might
+deplore it, rumour persistently pointed to the Crick he-cat as the
+presumable father of sundry kittens of which the Saunders she-cat was
+indisputably the mother.  Mrs. Saunders drowned the kittens, but the
+disgrace remained.
+
+Summer succeeded spring, and winter summer, but the feud outlasted the
+waning seasons.  Once, indeed, it seemed as though the healing influences
+of religion might restore to Toad-Water its erstwhile peace; the hostile
+families found themselves side by side in the soul-kindling atmosphere of
+a Revival Tea, where hymns were blended with a beverage that came of
+tea-leaves and hot water and took after the latter parent, and where
+ghostly counsel was tempered by garnishings of solidly fashioned
+buns--and here, wrought up by the environment of festive piety, Mrs.
+Saunders so far unbent as to remark guardedly to Mrs. Crick that the
+evening had been a fine one.  Mrs. Crick, under the influence of her
+ninth cup of tea and her fourth hymn, ventured on the hope that it might
+continue fine, but a maladroit allusion on the part of the Saunders good
+man to the backwardness of garden crops brought the Feud stalking forth
+from its corner with all its old bitterness.  Mrs. Saunders joined
+heartily in the singing of the final hymn, which told of peace and joy
+and archangels and golden glories; but her thoughts were dwelling on the
+pauper aunt of Exeter.
+
+Years have rolled away, and some of the actors in this wayside drama have
+passed into the Unknown; other onions have arisen, have flourished, have
+gone their way, and the offending hen has long since expiated her
+misdeeds and lain with trussed feet and a look of ineffable peace under
+the arched roof of Barnstaple market.
+
+But the Blood-feud of Toad-Water survives to this day.
+
+
+
+
+A YOUNG TURKISH CATASTROPHE
+IN TWO SCENES
+
+
+The Minister for Fine Arts (to whose Department had been lately added the
+new sub-section of Electoral Engineering) paid a business visit to the
+Grand Vizier.  According to Eastern etiquette they discoursed for a while
+on indifferent subjects.  The minister only checked himself in time from
+making a passing reference to the Marathon Race, remembering that the
+Vizier had a Persian grandmother and might consider any allusion to
+Marathon as somewhat tactless.  Presently the Minister broached the
+subject of his interview.
+
+"Under the new Constitution are women to have votes?" he asked suddenly.
+
+"To have votes?  Women?" exclaimed the Vizier in some astonishment.  "My
+dear Pasha, the New Departure has a flavour of the absurd as it is; don't
+let's try and make it altogether ridiculous.  Women have no souls and no
+intelligence; why on earth should they have votes?"
+
+"I know it sounds absurd," said the Minister, "but they are seriously
+considering the idea in the West."
+
+"Then they must have a larger equipment of seriousness than I gave them
+credit for.  After a lifetime of specialised effort in maintaining my
+gravity I can scarcely restrain an inclination to smile at the
+suggestion.  Why, out womenfolk in most cases don't know how to read or
+write.  How could they perform the operation of voting?"
+
+"They could be shown the names of the candidates and where to make their
+cross."
+
+"I beg your pardon?" interrupted the Vizier.
+
+"Their crescent, I mean," corrected the Minister.  "It would be to the
+liking of the Young Turkish Party," he added.
+
+"Oh, well," said the Vizier, "if we are to do the thing at all we may as
+well go the whole h---" he pulled up just as he was uttering the name of
+an unclean animal, and continued, "the complete camel.  I will issue
+instructions that womenfolk are to have votes."
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+The poll was drawing to a close in the Lakoumistan division.  The
+candidate of the Young Turkish Party was known to be three or four
+hundred votes ahead, and he was already drafting his address, returning
+thanks to the electors.  His victory had been almost a foregone
+conclusion, for he had set in motion all the approved electioneering
+machinery of the West.  He had even employed motorcars.  Few of his
+supporters had gone to the poll in these vehicles, but, thanks to the
+intelligent driving of his chauffeurs, many of his opponents had gone to
+their graves or to the local hospitals, or otherwise abstained from
+voting.  And then something unlooked-for happened.  The rival candidate,
+Ali the Blest, arrived on the scene with his wives and womenfolk, who
+numbered, roughly, six hundred.  Ali had wasted little effort on election
+literature, but had been heard to remark that every vote given to his
+opponent meant another sack thrown into the Bosphorus.  The Young Turkish
+candidate, who had conformed to the Western custom of one wife and hardly
+any mistresses, stood by helplessly while his adversary's poll swelled to
+a triumphant majority.
+
+"Cristabel Columbus!" he exclaimed, invoking in some confusion the name
+of a distinguished pioneer; "who would have thought it?"
+
+"Strange," mused Ali, "that one who harangued so clamorously about the
+Secret Ballot should have overlooked the Veiled Vote."
+
+And, walking homeward with his constituents, he murmured in his beard an
+improvisation on the heretic poet of Persia:
+
+    "One, rich in metaphors, his Cause contrives
+    To urge with edged words, like Kabul knives;
+    And I, who worst him in this sorry game,
+    Was never rich in anything but--wives."
+
+
+
+
+JUDKIN OF THE PARCELS
+
+
+A figure in an indefinite tweed suit, carrying brown-paper parcels.  That
+is what we met suddenly, at the bend of a muddy Dorsetshire lane, and the
+roan mare stared and obviously thought of a curtsey.  The mare is
+road-shy, with intervals of stolidity, and there is no telling what she
+will pass and what she won't.  We call her Redford.  That was my first
+meeting with Judkin, and the next time the circumstances were the same;
+the same muddy lane, the same rather apologetic figure in the tweed suit,
+the same--or very similar--parcels.  Only this time the roan looked
+straight in front of her.
+
+Whether I asked the groom or whether he advanced the information, I
+forget; but someway I gradually reconstructed the life-history of this
+trudger of the lanes.  It was much the same, no doubt, as that of many
+others who are from time to time pointed out to one as having been
+aforetime in crack cavalry regiments and noted performers in the saddle;
+men who have breathed into their lungs the wonder of the East, have
+romped through life as through a cotillon, have had a thrust perhaps at
+the Viceroy's Cup, and done fantastic horsefleshy things around the Gulf
+of Aden.  And then a golden stream has dried up, the sunlight has faded
+suddenly out of things, and the gods have nodded "Go."  And they have not
+gone.  They have turned instead to the muddy lanes and cheap villas and
+the marked-down ills of life, to watch pear trees growing and to
+encourage hens for their eggs.  And Judkin was even as these others; the
+wine had been suddenly spilt from his cup of life, and he had stayed to
+suck at the dregs which the wise throw away.  In the days of his scorn
+for most things he would have stared the roan mare and her turn-out out
+of all pretension to smartness, as he would have frozen a cheap claret
+behind its cork, or a plain woman behind her veil; and now he was walking
+stoically through the mud, in a tweed suit that would eventually go on to
+the gardener's boy, and would perhaps fit him.  The dear gods, who know
+the end before the beginning, were perhaps growing a gardener's boy
+somewhere to fit the garments, and Judkin was only a caretaker,
+inhabiting a portion of them.  That is what I like to think, and I am
+probably wrong.  And Judkin, whose clothes had been to him once more than
+a religion, scarcely less sacred than a family quarrel, would carry those
+parcels back to his villa and to the wife who awaited him and them--a
+wife who may, for all we know to the contrary, have had a figure once,
+and perhaps has yet a heart of gold--of nine-carat gold, let us say at
+the least--but assuredly a soul of tape.  And he that has fetched and
+carried will explain how it has fared with him in his dealings, and if he
+has brought the wrong sort of sugar or thread he will wheedle away the
+displeasure from that leaden face as a pastrycook girl will drive
+bluebottles off a stale bun.  And that man has known what it was to coax
+the fret of a thoroughbred, to soothe its toss and sweat as it danced
+beneath him in the glee and chafe of its pulses and the glory of its
+thews.  He has been in the raw places of the earth, where the desert
+beasts have whimpered their unthinkable psalmody, and their eyes have
+shone back the reflex of the midnight stars--and he can immerse himself
+in the tending of an incubator.  It is horrible and wrong, and yet when I
+have met him in the lanes his face has worn a look of tedious
+cheerfulness that might pass for happiness.  Has Judkin of the Parcels
+found something in the lees of life that I have missed in going to and
+fro over many waters?  Is there more wisdom in his perverseness than in
+the madness of the wise?  The dear gods know.
+
+I don't think I saw Judkin more than three times all told, and always the
+lane was our point of contact; but as the roan mare was taking me to the
+station one heavy, cloud-smeared day, I passed a dull-looking villa that
+the groom, or instinct, told me was Judkin's home.  From beyond a hedge
+of ragged elder-bushes could be heard the thud, thud of a spade, with an
+occasional clink and pause, as if some one had picked out a stone and
+thrown it to a distance, and I knew that _he_ was doing nameless things
+to the roots of a pear tree.  Near by him, I felt sure, would be lying a
+large and late vegetable marrow, and its largeness and lateness would be
+a theme of conversation at luncheon.  It would be suggested that it
+should grace the harvest thanksgiving service; the harvest having been so
+generally unsatisfactory, it would be unfair to let the farmers supply
+all the material for rejoicing.
+
+And while I was speeding townwards along the rails Judkin would be
+plodding his way to the vicarage bearing a vegetable marrow and a
+basketful of dahlias.  The basket to be returned.
+
+
+
+
+GABRIEL-ERNEST
+
+
+"There is a wild beast in your woods," said the artist Cunningham, as he
+was being driven to the station.  It was the only remark he had made
+during the drive, but as Van Cheele had talked incessantly his
+companion's silence had not been noticeable.
+
+"A stray fox or two and some resident weasels.  Nothing more formidable,"
+said Van Cheele.  The artist said nothing.
+
+"What did you mean about a wild beast?" said Van Cheele later, when they
+were on the platform.
+
+"Nothing.  My imagination.  Here is the train," said Cunningham.
+
+That afternoon Van Cheele went for one of his frequent rambles through
+his woodland property.  He had a stuffed bittern in his study, and knew
+the names of quite a number of wild flowers, so his aunt had possibly
+some justification in describing him as a great naturalist.  At any rate,
+he was a great walker.  It was his custom to take mental notes of
+everything he saw during his walks, not so much for the purpose of
+assisting contemporary science as to provide topics for conversation
+afterwards.  When the bluebells began to show themselves in flower he
+made a point of informing every one of the fact; the season of the year
+might have warned his hearers of the likelihood of such an occurrence,
+but at least they felt that he was being absolutely frank with them.
+
+What Van Cheele saw on this particular afternoon was, however, something
+far removed from his ordinary range of experience.  On a shelf of smooth
+stone overhanging a deep pool in the hollow of an oak coppice a boy of
+about sixteen lay asprawl, drying his wet brown limbs luxuriously in the
+sun.  His wet hair, parted by a recent dive, lay close to his head, and
+his light-brown eyes, so light that there was an almost tigerish gleam in
+them, were turned towards Van Cheele with a certain lazy watchfulness.
+It was an unexpected apparition, and Van Cheele found himself engaged in
+the novel process of thinking before he spoke.  Where on earth could this
+wild-looking boy hail from?  The miller's wife had lost a child some two
+months ago, supposed to have been swept away by the mill-race, but that
+had been a mere baby, not a half-grown lad.
+
+"What are you doing there?" he demanded.
+
+"Obviously, sunning myself," replied the boy.
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+"Here, in these woods."
+
+"You can't live in the woods," said Van Cheele.
+
+"They are very nice woods," said the boy, with a touch of patronage in
+his voice.
+
+"But where do you sleep at night?"
+
+"I don't sleep at night; that's my busiest time."
+
+Van Cheele began to have an irritated feeling that he was grappling with
+a problem that was eluding him.
+
+"What do you feed on?" he asked.
+
+"Flesh," said the boy, and he pronounced the word with slow relish, as
+though he were tasting it.
+
+"Flesh!  What Flesh?"
+
+"Since it interests you, rabbits, wild-fowl, hares, poultry, lambs in
+their season, children when I can get any; they're usually too well
+locked in at night, when I do most of my hunting.  It's quite two months
+since I tasted child-flesh."
+
+Ignoring the chaffing nature of the last remark Van Cheele tried to draw
+the boy on the subject of possible poaching operations.
+
+"You're talking rather through your hat when you speak of feeding on
+hares."  (Considering the nature of the boy's toilet the simile was
+hardly an apt one.)  "Our hillside hares aren't easily caught."
+
+"At night I hunt on four feet," was the somewhat cryptic response.
+
+"I suppose you mean that you hunt with a dog?" hazarded Van Cheele.
+
+The boy rolled slowly over on to his back, and laughed a weird low laugh,
+that was pleasantly like a chuckle and disagreeably like a snarl.
+
+"I don't fancy any dog would be very anxious for my company, especially
+at night."
+
+Van Cheele began to feel that there was something positively uncanny
+about the strange-eyed, strange-tongued youngster.
+
+"I can't have you staying in these woods," he declared authoritatively.
+
+"I fancy you'd rather have me here than in your house," said the boy.
+
+The prospect of this wild, nude animal in Van Cheele's primly ordered
+house was certainly an alarming one.
+
+"If you don't go.  I shall have to make you," said Van Cheele.
+
+The boy turned like a flash, plunged into the pool, and in a moment had
+flung his wet and glistening body half-way up the bank where Van Cheele
+was standing.  In an otter the movement would not have been remarkable;
+in a boy Van Cheele found it sufficiently startling.  His foot slipped as
+he made an involuntarily backward movement, and he found himself almost
+prostrate on the slippery weed-grown bank, with those tigerish yellow
+eyes not very far from his own.  Almost instinctively he half raised his
+hand to his throat.  They boy laughed again, a laugh in which the snarl
+had nearly driven out the chuckle, and then, with another of his
+astonishing lightning movements, plunged out of view into a yielding
+tangle of weed and fern.
+
+"What an extraordinary wild animal!" said Van Cheele as he picked himself
+up.  And then he recalled Cunningham's remark "There is a wild beast in
+your woods."
+
+Walking slowly homeward, Van Cheele began to turn over in his mind
+various local occurrences which might be traceable to the existence of
+this astonishing young savage.
+
+Something had been thinning the game in the woods lately, poultry had
+been missing from the farms, hares were growing unaccountably scarcer,
+and complaints had reached him of lambs being carried off bodily from the
+hills.  Was it possible that this wild boy was really hunting the
+countryside in company with some clever poacher dogs?  He had spoken of
+hunting "four-footed" by night, but then, again, he had hinted strangely
+at no dog caring to come near him, "especially at night."  It was
+certainly puzzling.  And then, as Van Cheele ran his mind over the
+various depredations that had been committed during the last month or
+two, he came suddenly to a dead stop, alike in his walk and his
+speculations.  The child missing from the mill two months ago--the
+accepted theory was that it had tumbled into the mill-race and been swept
+away; but the mother had always declared she had heard a shriek on the
+hill side of the house, in the opposite direction from the water.  It was
+unthinkable, of course, but he wished that the boy had not made that
+uncanny remark about child-flesh eaten two months ago.  Such dreadful
+things should not be said even in fun.
+
+Van Cheele, contrary to his usual wont, did not feel disposed to be
+communicative about his discovery in the wood.  His position as a parish
+councillor and justice of the peace seemed somehow compromised by the
+fact that he was harbouring a personality of such doubtful repute on his
+property; there was even a possibility that a heavy bill of damages for
+raided lambs and poultry might be laid at his door.  At dinner that night
+he was quite unusually silent.
+
+"Where's your voice gone to?" said his aunt.  "One would think you had
+seen a wolf."
+
+Van Cheele, who was not familiar with the old saying, thought the remark
+rather foolish; if he _had_ seen a wolf on his property his tongue would
+have been extraordinarily busy with the subject.
+
+At breakfast next morning Van Cheele was conscious that his feeling of
+uneasiness regarding yesterday's episode had not wholly disappeared, and
+he resolved to go by train to the neighbouring cathedral town, hunt up
+Cunningham, and learn from him what he had really seen that had prompted
+the remark about a wild beast in the woods.  With this resolution taken,
+his usual cheerfulness partially returned, and he hummed a bright little
+melody as he sauntered to the morning-room for his customary cigarette.
+As he entered the room the melody made way abruptly for a pious
+invocation.  Gracefully asprawl on the ottoman, in an attitude of almost
+exaggerated repose, was the boy of the woods.  He was drier than when Van
+Cheele had last seen him, but no other alteration was noticeable in his
+toilet.
+
+"How dare you come here?" asked Van Cheele furiously.
+
+"You told me I was not to stay in the woods," said the boy calmly.
+
+"But not to come here.  Supposing my aunt should see you!"
+
+And with a view to minimising that catastrophe, Van Cheele hastily
+obscured as much of his unwelcome guest as possible under the folds of a
+_Morning Post_.  At that moment his aunt entered the room.
+
+"This is a poor boy who has lost his way--and lost his memory.  He
+doesn't know who he is or where he comes from," explained Van Cheele
+desperately, glancing apprehensively at the waif's face to see whether he
+was going to add inconvenient candour to his other savage propensities.
+
+Miss Van Cheele was enormously interested.
+
+"Perhaps his underlinen is marked," she suggested.
+
+"He seems to have lost most of that, too," said Van Cheele, making
+frantic little grabs at the _Morning Post_ to keep it in its place.
+
+A naked homeless child appealed to Miss Van Cheele as warmly as a stray
+kitten or derelict puppy would have done.
+
+"We must do all we can for him," she decided, and in a very short time a
+messenger, dispatched to the rectory, where a page-boy was kept, had
+returned with a suit of pantry clothes, and the necessary accessories of
+shirt, shoes, collar, etc.  Clothed, clean, and groomed, the boy lost
+none of his uncanniness in Van Cheele's eyes, but his aunt found him
+sweet.
+
+"We must call him something till we know who he really is," she said.
+"Gabriel-Ernest, I think; those are nice suitable names."
+
+Van Cheele agreed, but he privately doubted whether they were being
+grafted on to a nice suitable child.  His misgivings were not diminished
+by the fact that his staid and elderly spaniel had bolted out of the
+house at the first incoming of the boy, and now obstinately remained
+shivering and yapping at the farther end of the orchard, while the
+canary, usually as vocally industrious as Van Cheele himself, had put
+itself on an allowance of frightened cheeps.  More than ever he was
+resolved to consult Cunningham without loss of time.
+
+As he drove off to the station his aunt was arranging that Gabriel-Ernest
+should help her to entertain the infant members of her Sunday-school
+class at tea that afternoon.
+
+Cunningham was not at first disposed to be communicative.
+
+"My mother died of some brain trouble," he explained, "so you will
+understand why I am averse to dwelling on anything of an impossibly
+fantastic nature that I may see or think that I have seen."
+
+"But what _did_ you see?" persisted Van Cheele.
+
+"What I thought I saw was something so extraordinary that no really sane
+man could dignify it with the credit of having actually happened.  I was
+standing, the last evening I was with you, half-hidden in the
+hedge-growth by the orchard gate, watching the dying glow of the sunset.
+Suddenly I became aware of a naked boy, a bather from some neighbouring
+pool, I took him to be, who was standing out on the bare hillside also
+watching the sunset.  His pose was so suggestive of some wild faun of
+Pagan myth that I instantly wanted to engage him as a model, and in
+another moment I think I should have hailed him.  But just then the sun
+dipped out of view, and all the orange and pink slid out of the
+landscape, leaving it cold and grey.  And at the same moment an
+astounding thing happened--the boy vanished too!"
+
+"What! vanished away into nothing?" asked Van Cheele excitedly.
+
+"No; that is the dreadful part of it," answered the artist; "on the open
+hillside where the boy had been standing a second ago, stood a large
+wolf, blackish in colour, with gleaming fangs and cruel, yellow eyes.
+You may think--"
+
+But Van Cheele did not stop for anything as futile as thought.  Already
+he was tearing at top speed towards the station.  He dismissed the idea
+of a telegram.  "Gabriel-Ernest is a werewolf" was a hopelessly
+inadequate effort at conveying the situation, and his aunt would think it
+was a code message to which he had omitted to give her the key.  His one
+hope was that he might reach home before sundown.  The cab which he
+chartered at the other end of the railway journey bore him with what
+seemed exasperating slowness along the country roads, which were pink and
+mauve with the flush of the sinking sun.  His aunt was putting away some
+unfinished jams and cake when he arrived.
+
+"Where is Gabriel-Ernest?" he almost screamed.
+
+"He is taking the little Toop child home," said his aunt.  "It was
+getting so late, I thought it wasn't safe to let it go back alone.  What
+a lovely sunset, isn't it?"
+
+But Van Cheele, although not oblivious of the glow in the western sky,
+did not stay to discuss its beauties.  At a speed for which he was
+scarcely geared he raced along the narrow lane that led to the home of
+the Toops.  On one side ran the swift current of the mill-stream, on the
+other rose the stretch of bare hillside.  A dwindling rim of red sun
+showed still on the skyline, and the next turning must bring him in view
+of the ill-assorted couple he was pursuing.  Then the colour went
+suddenly out of things, and a grey light settled itself with a quick
+shiver over the landscape.  Van Cheele heard a shrill wail of fear, and
+stopped running.
+
+Nothing was ever seen again of the Toop child or Gabriel-Ernest, but the
+latter's discarded garments were found lying in the road so it was
+assumed that the child had fallen into the water, and that the boy had
+stripped and jumped in, in a vain endeavour to save it.  Van Cheele and
+some workmen who were near by at the time testified to having heard a
+child scream loudly just near the spot where the clothes were found.
+Mrs. Toop, who had eleven other children, was decently resigned to her
+bereavement, but Miss Van Cheele sincerely mourned her lost foundling.
+It was on her initiative that a memorial brass was put up in the parish
+church to "Gabriel-Ernest, an unknown boy, who bravely sacrificed his
+life for another."
+
+Van Cheele gave way to his aunt in most things, but he flatly refused to
+subscribe to the Gabriel-Ernest memorial.
+
+
+
+
+THE SAINT AND THE GOBLIN
+
+
+The little stone Saint occupied a retired niche in a side aisle of the
+old cathedral.  No one quite remembered who he had been, but that in a
+way was a guarantee of respectability.  At least so the Goblin said.  The
+Goblin was a very fine specimen of quaint stone carving, and lived up in
+the corbel on the wall opposite the niche of the little Saint.  He was
+connected with some of the best cathedral folk, such as the queer
+carvings in the choir stalls and chancel screen, and even the gargoyles
+high up on the roof.  All the fantastic beasts and manikins that sprawled
+and twisted in wood or stone or lead overhead in the arches or away down
+in the crypt were in some way akin to him; consequently he was a person
+of recognised importance in the cathedral world.
+
+The little stone Saint and the Goblin got on very well together, though
+they looked at most things from different points of view.  The Saint was
+a philanthropist in an old fashioned way; he thought the world, as he saw
+it, was good, but might be improved.  In particular he pitied the church
+mice, who were miserably poor.  The Goblin, on the other hand, was of
+opinion that the world, as he knew it, was bad, but had better be let
+alone.  It was the function of the church mice to be poor.
+
+"All the same," said the Saint, "I feel very sorry for them."
+
+"Of course you do," said the Goblin; "it's _your_ function to feel sorry
+for them.  If they were to leave off being poor you couldn't fulfil your
+functions.  You'd be a sinecure."
+
+He rather hoped that the Saint would ask him what a sinecure meant, but
+the latter took refuge in a stony silence.  The Goblin might be right,
+but still, he thought, he would like to do something for the church mice
+before winter came on; they were so very poor.
+
+Whilst he was thinking the matter over he was startled by something
+falling between his feet with a hard metallic clatter.  It was a bright
+new thaler; one of the cathedral jackdaws, who collected such things, had
+flown in with it to a stone cornice just above his niche, and the banging
+of the sacristy door had startled him into dropping it.  Since the
+invention of gunpowder the family nerves were not what they had been.
+
+"What have you got there?" asked the Goblin.
+
+"A silver thaler," said the Saint.  "Really," he continued, "it is most
+fortunate; now I can do something for the church mice."
+
+"How will you manage it?" asked the Goblin.
+
+The Saint considered.
+
+"I will appear in a vision to the vergeress who sweeps the floors.  I
+will tell her that she will find a silver thaler between my feet, and
+that she must take it and buy a measure of corn and put it on my shrine.
+When she finds the money she will know that it was a true dream, and she
+will take care to follow my directions.  Then the mice will have food all
+the winter."
+
+"Of course _you_ can do that," observed the Goblin.  "Now, _I_ can only
+appear to people after they have had a heavy supper of indigestible
+things.  My opportunities with the vergeress would be limited.  There is
+some advantage in being a saint after all."
+
+All this while the coin was lying at the Saint's feet.  It was clean and
+glittering and had the Elector's arms beautifully stamped upon it.  The
+Saint began to reflect that such an opportunity was too rare to be
+hastily disposed of.  Perhaps indiscriminate charity might be harmful to
+the church mice.  After all, it was their function to be poor; the Goblin
+had said so, and the Goblin was generally right.
+
+"I've been thinking," he said to that personage, "that perhaps it would
+be really better if I ordered a thaler's worth of candles to be placed on
+my shrine instead of the corn."
+
+He often wished, for the look of the thing, that people would sometimes
+burn candles at his shrine; but as they had forgotten who he was it was
+not considered a profitable speculation to pay him that attention.
+
+"Candles would be more orthodox," said the Goblin.
+
+"More orthodox, certainly," agreed the Saint, "and the mice could have
+the ends to eat; candle-ends are most fattening."
+
+The Goblin was too well bred to wink; besides, being a stone goblin, it
+was out of the question.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+"Well, if it ain't there, sure enough!" said the vergeress next morning.
+She took the shining coin down from the dusty niche and turned it over
+and over in her grimy hands.  Then she put it to her mouth and bit it.
+
+"She can't be going to eat it," thought the Saint, and fixed her with his
+stoniest stare.
+
+"Well," said the woman, in a somewhat shriller key, "who'd have thought
+it!  A saint, too!"
+
+Then she did an unaccountable thing.  She hunted an old piece of tape out
+of her pocket, and tied to crosswise, with a big loop, round the thaler,
+and hung it round the neck of the little Saint.
+
+Then she went away.
+
+"The only possible explanation," said the Goblin, "is that it's a bad
+one."
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+"What is that decoration your neighbour is wearing?" asked a wyvern that
+was wrought into the capital of an adjacent pillar.
+
+The Saint was ready to cry with mortification, only, being of stone, he
+couldn't.
+
+"It's a coin of--ahem!--fabulous value," replied the Goblin tactfully.
+
+And the news went round the Cathedral that the shrine of the little stone
+Saint had been enriched by a priceless offering.
+
+"After all, it's something to have the conscience of a goblin," said the
+Saint to himself.
+
+The church mice were as poor as ever.  But that was their function.
+
+
+
+
+THE SOUL OF LAPLOSHKA
+
+
+Laploshka was one of the meanest men I have ever met, and quite one of
+the most entertaining.  He said horrid things about other people in such
+a charming way that one forgave him for the equally horrid things he said
+about oneself behind one's back.  Hating anything in the way of
+ill-natured gossip ourselves, we are always grateful to those who do it
+for us and do it well.  And Laploshka did it really well.
+
+Naturally Laploshka had a large circle of acquaintances, and as he
+exercised some care in their selection it followed that an appreciable
+proportion were men whose bank balances enabled them to acquiesce
+indulgently in his rather one-sided views on hospitality.  Thus, although
+possessed of only moderate means, he was able to live comfortably within
+his income, and still more comfortably within those of various tolerantly
+disposed associates.
+
+But towards the poor or to those of the same limited resources as himself
+his attitude was one of watchful anxiety; he seemed to be haunted by a
+besetting fear lest some fraction of a shilling or franc, or whatever the
+prevailing coinage might be, should be diverted from his pocket or
+service into that of a hard-up companion.  A two-franc cigar would be
+cheerfully offered to a wealthy patron, on the principle of doing evil
+that good may come, but I have known him indulge in agonies of perjury
+rather than admit the incriminating possession of a copper coin when
+change was needed to tip a waiter.  The coin would have been duly
+returned at the earliest opportunity--he would have taken means to insure
+against forgetfulness on the part of the borrower--but accidents might
+happen, and even the temporary estrangement from his penny or sou was a
+calamity to be avoided.
+
+The knowledge of this amiable weakness offered a perpetual temptation to
+play upon Laploshka's fears of involuntary generosity.  To offer him a
+lift in a cab and pretend not to have enough money to pay the fair, to
+fluster him with a request for a sixpence when his hand was full of
+silver just received in change, these were a few of the petty torments
+that ingenuity prompted as occasion afforded.  To do justice to
+Laploshka's resourcefulness it must be admitted that he always emerged
+somehow or other from the most embarrassing dilemma without in any way
+compromising his reputation for saying "No."  But the gods send
+opportunities at some time to most men, and mine came one evening when
+Laploshka and I were supping together in a cheap boulevard restaurant.
+(Except when he was the bidden guest of some one with an irreproachable
+income, Laploshka was wont to curb his appetite for high living; on such
+fortunate occasions he let it go on an easy snaffle.)  At the conclusion
+of the meal a somewhat urgent message called me away, and without heeding
+my companion's agitated protest, I called back cruelly, "Pay my share;
+I'll settle with you to-morrow."  Early on the morrow Laploshka hunted me
+down by instinct as I walked along a side street that I hardly ever
+frequented.  He had the air of a man who had not slept.
+
+"You owe me two francs from last night," was his breathless greeting.
+
+I spoke evasively of the situation in Portugal, where more trouble seemed
+brewing.  But Laploshka listened with the abstraction of the deaf adder,
+and quickly returned to the subject of the two francs.
+
+"I'm afraid I must owe it to you," I said lightly and brutally.  "I
+haven't a sou in the world," and I added mendaciously, "I'm going away
+for six months or perhaps longer."
+
+Laploshka said nothing, but his eyes bulged a little and his cheeks took
+on the mottled hues of an ethnographical map of the Balkan Peninsula.
+That same day, at sundown, he died.  "Failure of the heart's action," was
+the doctor's verdict; but I, who knew better, knew that he died of grief.
+
+There arose the problem of what to do with his two francs.  To have
+killed Laploshka was one thing; to have kept his beloved money would have
+argued a callousness of feeling of which I am not capable.  The ordinary
+solution, of giving it to the poor, would by no means fit the present
+situation, for nothing would have distressed the dead man more than such
+a misuse of his property.  On the other hand, the bestowal of two francs
+on the rich was an operation which called for some tact.  An easy way out
+of the difficulty seemed, however, to present itself the following
+Sunday, as I was wedged into the cosmopolitan crowd which filled the
+side-aisle of one of the most popular Paris churches.  A collecting-bag,
+for "the poor of Monsieur le Cure," was buffeting its tortuous way across
+the seemingly impenetrable human sea, and a German in front of me, who
+evidently did not wish his appreciation of the magnificent music to be
+marred by a suggestion of payment, made audible criticisms to his
+companion on the claims of the said charity.
+
+"They do not want money," he said; "they have too much money.  They have
+no poor.  They are all pampered."
+
+If that were really the case my way seemed clear.  I dropped Laploshka's
+two francs into the bag with a murmured blessing on the rich of Monsieur
+le Cure.
+
+Some three weeks later chance had taken me to Vienna, and I sat one
+evening regaling myself in a humble but excellent little Gasthaus up in
+the Wahringer quarter.  The appointments were primitive, but the
+Schnitzel, the beer, and the cheese could not have been improved on.
+Good cheer brought good custom, and with the exception of one small table
+near the door every place was occupied.  Half-way through my meal I
+happened to glance in the direction of that empty seat, and saw that it
+was no longer empty.  Poring over the bill of fare with the absorbed
+scrutiny of one who seeks the cheapest among the cheap was Laploshka.
+Once he looked across at me, with a comprehensive glance at my repast, as
+though to say, "It is my two francs you are eating," and then looked
+swiftly away.  Evidently the poor of Monsieur le Cure had been genuine
+poor.  The Schnitzel turned to leather in my mouth, the beer seemed
+tepid; I left the Emmenthaler untasted.  My one idea was to get away from
+the room, away from the table where _that_ was seated; and as I fled I
+felt Laploshka's reproachful eyes watching the amount that I gave to the
+piccolo--out of his two francs.  I lunched next day at an expensive
+restaurant which I felt sure that the living Laploshka would never have
+entered on his own account, and I hoped that the dead Laploshka would
+observe the same barriers.  I was not mistaken, but as I came out I found
+him miserably studying the bill of fare stuck up on the portals.  Then he
+slowly made his way over to a milk-hall.  For the first time in my
+experience I missed the charm and gaiety of Vienna life.
+
+After that, in Paris or London or wherever I happened to be, I continued
+to see a good deal of Laploshka.  If I had a seat in a box at a theatre I
+was always conscious of his eyes furtively watching me from the dim
+recesses of the gallery.  As I turned into my club on a rainy afternoon I
+would see him taking inadequate shelter in a doorway opposite.  Even if I
+indulged in the modest luxury of a penny chair in the Park he generally
+confronted me from one of the free benches, never staring at me, but
+always elaborately conscious of my presence.  My friends began to comment
+on my changed looks, and advised me to leave off heaps of things.  I
+should have liked to have left off Laploshka.
+
+On a certain Sunday--it was probably Easter, for the crush was worse than
+ever--I was again wedged into the crowd listening to the music in the
+fashionable Paris church, and again the collection-bag was buffeting its
+way across the human sea.  An English lady behind me was making
+ineffectual efforts to convey a coin into the still distant bag, so I
+took the money at her request and helped it forward to its destination.
+It was a two-franc piece.  A swift inspiration came to me, and I merely
+dropped my own sou into the bag and slid the silver coin into my pocket.
+I had withdrawn Laploshka's two francs from the poor, who should never
+have had the legacy.  As I backed away from the crowd I heard a woman's
+voice say, "I don't believe he put my money in the bag.  There are swarms
+of people in Paris like that!"  But my mind was lighter that it had been
+for a long time.
+
+The delicate mission of bestowing the retrieved sum on the deserving rich
+still confronted me.  Again I trusted to the inspiration of accident, and
+again fortune favoured me.  A shower drove me, two days later, into one
+of the historic churches on the left bank of the Seine, and there I
+found, peering at the old wood-carvings, the Baron R., one of the
+wealthiest and most shabbily dressed men in Paris.  It was now or never.
+Putting a strong American inflection into the French which I usually
+talked with an unmistakable British accent, I catechised the Baron as to
+the date of the church's building, its dimensions, and other details
+which an American tourist would be certain to want to know.  Having
+acquired such information as the Baron was able to impart on short
+notice, I solemnly placed the two-franc piece in his hand, with the
+hearty assurance that it was "pour vous," and turned to go.  The Baron
+was slightly taken aback, but accepted the situation with a good grace.
+Walking over to a small box fixed in the wall, he dropped Laploshka's two
+francs into the slot.  Over the box was the inscription, "Pour les
+pauvres de M. le Cure."
+
+That evening, at the crowded corner by the Cafe de la Paix, I caught a
+fleeting glimpse of Laploshka.  He smiled, slightly raised his hat, and
+vanished.  I never saw him again.  After all, the money had been _given_
+to the deserving rich, and the soul of Laploshka was at peace.
+
+
+
+
+THE BAG
+
+
+"The Major is coming in to tea," said Mrs. Hoopington to her niece.
+"He's just gone round to the stables with his horse.  Be as bright and
+lively as you can; the poor man's got a fit of the glooms."
+
+Major Pallaby was a victim of circumstances, over which he had no
+control, and of his temper, over which he had very little.  He had taken
+on the Mastership of the Pexdale Hounds in succession to a highly popular
+man who had fallen foul of his committee, and the Major found himself
+confronted with the overt hostility of at least half the hunt, while his
+lack of tact and amiability had done much to alienate the remainder.
+Hence subscriptions were beginning to fall off, foxes grew provokingly
+scarcer, and wire obtruded itself with increasing frequency.  The Major
+could plead reasonable excuse for his fit of the glooms.
+
+In ranging herself as a partisan on the side of Major Pallaby Mrs.
+Hoopington had been largely influenced by the fact that she had made up
+her mind to marry him at an early date.  Against his notorious bad temper
+she set his three thousand a year, and his prospective succession to a
+baronetcy gave a casting vote in his favour.  The Major's plans on the
+subject of matrimony were not at present in such an advanced stage as
+Mrs. Hoopington's, but he was beginning to find his way over to
+Hoopington Hall with a frequency that was already being commented on.
+
+"He had a wretchedly thin field out again yesterday," said Mrs.
+Hoopington.  "Why you didn't bring one or two hunting men down with you,
+instead of that stupid Russian boy, I can't think."
+
+"Vladimir isn't stupid," protested her niece; "he's one of the most
+amusing boys I ever met.  Just compare him for a moment with some of your
+heavy hunting men--"
+
+"Anyhow, my dear Norah, he can't ride."
+
+"Russians never can; but he shoots."
+
+"Yes; and what does he shoot?  Yesterday he brought home a woodpecker in
+his game-bag."
+
+"But he'd shot three pheasants and some rabbits as well."
+
+"That's no excuse for including a woodpecker in his game-bag."
+
+"Foreigners go in for mixed bags more than we do.  A Grand Duke pots a
+vulture just as seriously as we should stalk a bustard.  Anyhow, I've
+explained to Vladimir that certain birds are beneath his dignity as a
+sportsman.  And as he's only nineteen, of course, his dignity is a sure
+thing to appeal to."
+
+Mrs. Hoopington sniffed.  Most people with whom Vladimir came in contact
+found his high spirits infectious, but his present hostess was guaranteed
+immune against infection of that sort.
+
+"I hear him coming in now," she observed.  "I shall go and get ready for
+tea.  We're going to have it here in the hall.  Entertain the Major if he
+comes in before I'm down, and, above all, be bright."
+
+Norah was dependent on her aunt's good graces for many little things that
+made life worth living, and she was conscious of a feeling of
+discomfiture because the Russian youth whom she had brought down as a
+welcome element of change in the country-house routine was not making a
+good impression.  That young gentleman, however, was supremely
+unconscious of any shortcomings, and burst into the hall, tired, and less
+sprucely groomed than usual, but distinctly radiant.  His game-bag looked
+comfortably full.
+
+"Guess what I have shot," he demanded.
+
+"Pheasants, woodpigeons, rabbits," hazarded Norah.
+
+"No; a large beast; I don't know what you call it in English.  Brown,
+with a darkish tail."  Norah changed colour.
+
+"Does it live in a tree and eat nuts?" she asked, hoping that the use of
+the adjective "large" might be an exaggeration.
+
+Vladimir laughed.
+
+"Oh no; not a _biyelka_."
+
+"Does it swim and eat fish?" asked Norah, with a fervent prayer in her
+heart that it might turn out to be an otter.
+
+"No," said Vladimir, busy with the straps of his game-bag; "it lives in
+the woods, and eats rabbits and chickens."
+
+Norah sat down suddenly, and hid her face in her hands.
+
+"Merciful Heaven!" she wailed; "he's shot a fox!"
+
+Vladimir looked up at her in consternation.  In a torrent of agitated
+words she tried to explain the horror of the situation.  The boy
+understood nothing, but was thoroughly alarmed.
+
+"Hide it, hide it!" said Norah frantically, pointing to the still
+unopened bag.  "My aunt and the Major will be here in a moment.  Throw it
+on the top of that chest; they won't see it there."
+
+Vladimir swung the bag with fair aim; but the strap caught in its flight
+on the outstanding point of an antler fixed in the wall, and the bag,
+with its terrible burden, remained suspended just above the alcove where
+tea would presently be laid.  At that moment Mrs. Hoopington and the
+Major entered the hall.
+
+"The Major is going to draw our covers to-morrow," announced the lady,
+with a certain heavy satisfaction.  "Smithers is confident that we'll be
+able to show him some sport; he swears he's seen a fox in the nut copse
+three times this week."
+
+"I'm sure I hope so; I hope so," said the Major moodily.  "I must break
+this sequence of blank days.  One hears so often that a fox has settled
+down as a tenant for life in certain covers, and then when you go to turn
+him out there isn't a trace of him.  I'm certain a fox was shot or
+trapped in Lady Widden's woods the very day before we drew them."
+
+"Major, if any one tried that game on in my woods they'd get short
+shrift," said Mrs. Hoopington.
+
+Norah found her way mechanically to the tea-table and made her fingers
+frantically busy in rearranging the parsley round the sandwich dish.  On
+one side of her loomed the morose countenance of the Major, on the other
+she was conscious of the scared, miserable eyes of Vladimir.  And above
+it all hung _that_.  She dared not raise her eyes above the level of the
+tea-table, and she almost expected to see a spot of accusing vulpine
+blood drip down and stain the whiteness of the cloth.  Her aunt's manner
+signalled to her the repeated message to "be bright"; for the present she
+was fully occupied in keeping her teeth from chattering.
+
+"What did you shoot to-day?" asked Mrs. Hoopington suddenly of the
+unusually silent Vladimir.
+
+"Nothing--nothing worth speaking of," said the boy.
+
+Norah's heart, which had stood still for a space, made up for lost time
+with a most disturbing bound.
+
+"I wish you'd find something that was worth speaking about," said the
+hostess; "every one seems to have lost their tongues."
+
+"When did Smithers last see that fox?" said the Major.
+
+"Yesterday morning; a fine dog-fox, with a dark brush," confided Mrs.
+Hoopington.
+
+"Aha, we'll have a good gallop after that brush to-morrow," said the
+Major, with a transient gleam of good humour.  And then gloomy silence
+settled again round the tea-table, a silence broken only by despondent
+munchings and the occasional feverish rattle of a teaspoon in its saucer.
+A diversion was at last afforded by Mrs. Hoopington's fox-terrier, which
+had jumped on to a vacant chair, the better to survey the delicacies of
+the table, and was now sniffing in an upward direction at something
+apparently more interesting than cold tea-cake.
+
+"What is exciting him?" asked his mistress, as the dog suddenly broke
+into short angry barks, with a running accompaniment of tremulous whines.
+
+"Why," she continued, "it's your game-bag, Vladimir!  What _have_ you got
+in it?"
+
+"By Gad," said the Major, who was now standing up; "there's a pretty warm
+scent!"
+
+And then a simultaneous idea flashed on himself and Mrs. Hoopington.
+Their faces flushed to distinct but harmonious tones of purple, and with
+one accusing voice they screamed, "You've shot the fox!"
+
+Norah tried hastily to palliate Vladimir's misdeed in their eyes, but it
+is doubtful whether they heard her.  The Major's fury clothed and
+reclothed itself in words as frantically as a woman up in town for one
+day's shopping tries on a succession of garments.  He reviled and railed
+at fate and the general scheme of things, he pitied himself with a
+strong, deep pity too poignent for tears, he condemned every one with
+whom he had ever come in contact to endless and abnormal punishments.  In
+fact, he conveyed the impression that if a destroying angel had been lent
+to him for a week it would have had very little time for private study.
+In the lulls of his outcry could be heard the querulous monotone of Mrs.
+Hoopington and the sharp staccato barking of the fox-terrier.  Vladimir,
+who did not understand a tithe of what was being said, sat fondling a
+cigarette and repeating under his breath from time to time a vigorous
+English adjective which he had long ago taken affectionately into his
+vocabulary.  His mind strayed back to the youth in the old Russian
+folk-tale who shot an enchanted bird with dramatic results.  Meanwhile,
+the Major, roaming round the hall like an imprisoned cyclone, had caught
+sight of and joyfully pounced on the telephone apparatus, and lost no
+time in ringing up the hunt secretary and announcing his resignation of
+the Mastership.  A servant had by this time brought his horse round to
+the door, and in a few seconds Mrs. Hoopington's shrill monotone had the
+field to itself.  But after the Major's display her best efforts at vocal
+violence missed their full effect; it was as though one had come straight
+out from a Wagner opera into a rather tame thunderstorm.  Realising,
+perhaps, that her tirades were something of an anticlimax, Mrs.
+Hoopington broke suddenly into some rather necessary tears and marched
+out of the room, leaving behind her a silence almost as terrible as the
+turmoil which had preceded it.
+
+"What shall I do with--_that_?" asked Vladimir at last.
+
+"Bury it," said Norah.
+
+"Just plain burial?" said Vladimir, rather relieved.  He had almost
+expected that some of the local clergy would have insisted on being
+present, or that a salute might have to be fired over the grave.
+
+And thus it came to pass that in the dusk of a November evening the
+Russian boy, murmuring a few of the prayers of his Church for luck, gave
+hasty but decent burial to a large polecat under the lilac trees at
+Hoopington.
+
+
+
+
+THE STRATEGIST
+
+
+Mrs. Jallatt's young people's parties were severely exclusive; it came
+cheaper that way, because you could ask fewer to them.  Mrs. Jallatt
+didn't study cheapness, but somehow she generally attained it.
+
+"There'll be about ten girls," speculated Rollo, as he drove to the
+function, "and I suppose four fellows, unless the Wrotsleys bring their
+cousin, which Heaven forbid.  That would mean Jack and me against three
+of them."
+
+Rollo and the Wrotsley brethren had maintained an undying feud almost
+from nursery days.  They only met now and then in the holidays, and the
+meeting was usually tragic for whichever happened to have the fewest
+backers on hand.  Rollo was counting to-night on the presence of a
+devoted and muscular partisan to hold an even balance.  As he arrived he
+heard his prospective champion's sister apologising to the hostess for
+the unavoidable absence of her brother; a moment later he noted that the
+Wrotsleys _had_ brought their cousin.
+
+Two against three would have been exciting and possibly unpleasant; one
+against three promised to be about as amusing as a visit to the dentist.
+Rollo ordered his carriage for as early as was decently possible, and
+faced the company with a smile that he imagined the better sort of
+aristocrat would have worn when mounting to the guillotine.
+
+"So glad you were able to come," said the elder Wrotsley heartily.
+
+"Now, you children will like to play games, I suppose," said Mrs.
+Jallatt, by way of giving things a start, and as they were too well-bred
+to contradict her there only remained the question of what they were to
+play at.
+
+"I know of a good game," said the elder Wrotsley innocently.  "The
+fellows leave the room and think of a word; then they come back again,
+and the girls have to find out what the word is."
+
+Rollo knew the game.  He would have suggested it himself if his faction
+had been in the majority.
+
+"It doesn't promise to be very exciting," sniffed the superior Dolores
+Sneep as the boys filed out of the room.  Rollo thought differently.  He
+trusted to Providence that Wrotsley had nothing worse than knotted
+handkerchiefs at his disposal.
+
+The word-choosers locked themselves in the library to ensure that their
+deliberations should not be interrupted.  Providence turned out to be not
+even decently neutral; on a rack on the library wall were a dog-whip and
+a whalebone riding-switch.  Rollo thought it criminal negligence to leave
+such weapons of precision lying about.  He was given a choice of evils,
+and chose the dog-whip; the next minute or so he spent in wondering how
+he could have made such a stupid selection.  Then they went back to the
+languidly expectant females.
+
+"The word's 'camel,'" announced the Wrotsley cousin blunderingly.
+
+"You stupid!" screamed the girls, "we've got to _guess_ the word.  Now
+you'll have to go back and think of another."
+
+"Not for worlds," said Rollo; "I mean, the word isn't really camel; we
+were rotting.  Pretend it's dromedary!" he whispered to the others.
+
+"I heard them say 'dromedary'!  I heard them.  I don't care what you say;
+I heard them," squealed the odious Dolores.  "With ears as long as hers
+one would hear anything," thought Rollo savagely.
+
+"We shall have to go back, I suppose," said the elder Wrotsley
+resignedly.
+
+The conclave locked itself once more into the library.  "Look here, I'm
+not going through that dog-whip business again," protested Rollo.
+
+"Certainly not, dear," said the elder Wrotsley; "we'll try the whalebone
+switch this time, and you'll know which hurts most.  It's only by
+personal experience that one finds out these things."
+
+It was swiftly borne in upon Rollo that his earlier selection of the
+dog-whip had been a really sound one.  The conclave gave his under-lip
+time to steady itself while it debated the choice of the necessary word.
+"Mustang" was no good, as half the girls wouldn't know what it meant;
+finally "quagga" was pitched on.
+
+"You must come and sit down over here," chorused the investigating
+committee on their return; but Rollo was obdurate in insisting that the
+questioned person always stood up.  On the whole, it was a relief when
+the game was ended and supper was announced.
+
+Mrs. Jallatt did not stint her young guests, but the more expensive
+delicacies of her supper-table were never unnecessarily duplicated, and
+it was usually good policy to take what you wanted while it was still
+there.  On this occasion she had provided sixteen peaches to "go round"
+among fourteen children; it was really not her fault that the two
+Wrotsleys and their cousin, foreseeing the long foodless drive home, had
+each quietly pocketed an extra peach, but it was distinctly trying for
+Dolores and the fat and good-natured Agnes Blaik to be left with one
+peach between them.
+
+"I suppose we had better halve it," said Dolores sourly.
+
+But Agnes was fat first and good-natured afterwards; those were her
+guiding principles in life.  She was profuse in her sympathy for Dolores,
+but she hastily devoured the peach, explaining that it would spoil it to
+divide it; the juice ran out so.
+
+"Now what would you all like to do?" demanded Mrs. Jallatt by way of
+diversion.  "The professional conjurer whom I had engaged has failed me
+at the last moment.  Can any of you recite?"
+
+There were symptoms of a general panic.  Dolores was known to recite
+"Locksley Hall" on the least provocation.  There had been occasions when
+her opening line, "Comrades, leave me here a little," had been taken as a
+literal injunction by a large section of her hearers.  There was a murmur
+of relief when Rollo hastily declared that he could do a few conjuring
+tricks.  He had never done one in his life, but those two visits to the
+library had goaded him to unusual recklessness.
+
+"You've seen conjuring chaps take coins and cards out of people," he
+announced; "well, I'm going to take more interesting things out of some
+of you.  Mice, for instance."
+
+"Not mice!"
+
+A shrill protest rose, as he had foreseen, from the majority of his
+audience.
+
+"Well, fruit, them."
+
+The amended proposal was received with approval.  Agnes positively
+beamed.
+
+Without more ado Rollo made straight for his trio of enemies, plunged his
+hand successively into their breast-pockets, and produced three peaches.
+There was no applause, but no amount of hand-clapping would have given
+the performer as much pleasure as the silence which greeted his coup.
+
+"Of course, we were in the know," said the Wrotsley cousin lamely.
+
+"That's done it," chuckled Rollo to himself.
+
+"If they _had_ been confederates they would have sworn they knew nothing
+about it," said Dolores, with piercing conviction.
+
+"Do you know any more tricks?" asked Mrs. Jallatt hurriedly.
+
+Rollo did not.  He hinted that he might have changed the three peaches
+into something else, but Agnes had already converted one into girl-food,
+so nothing more could be done in that direction.
+
+"I know a game," said the elder Wrotsley heavily, "where the fellows go
+out of the room, and think of some character in history; then they come
+back and act him, and the girls have to guess who it's meant for."
+
+"I'm afraid I must be going," said Rollo to his hostess.
+
+"Your carriage won't be here for another twenty minutes," said Mrs.
+Jallatt.
+
+"It's such a fine evening I think I'll walk and meet it."
+
+"It's raining rather steadily at present.  You've just time to play that
+historical game."
+
+"We haven't heard Dolores recite," said Rollo desperately; as soon as he
+had said it he realised his mistake.  Confronted with the alternative of
+"Locksley Hall," public opinion declared unanimously for the history
+game.
+
+Rollo played his last card.  In an undertone meant apparently for the
+Wrotsley boy, but carefully pitched to reach Agnes, he observed--
+
+"All right, old man; we'll go and finish those chocolates we left in the
+library."
+
+"I think it's only fair that the girls should take their turn in going
+out," exclaimed Agnes briskly.  She was great on fairness.
+
+"Nonsense," said the others; "there are too many of us."
+
+"Well, four of us can go.  I'll be one of them."
+
+And Agnes darted off towards the library, followed by three less eager
+damsels.
+
+Rollo sank into a chair and smiled ever so faintly at the Wrotsleys, just
+a momentary baring of the teeth; an otter, escaping from the fangs of the
+hounds into the safety of a deep pool, might have given a similar
+demonstration of feelings.
+
+From the library came the sound of moving furniture.  Agnes was leaving
+nothing unturned in her quest for the mythical chocolates.  And then came
+a more blessed sound, wheels crunching wet gravel.
+
+"It has been a most enjoyable evening," said Rollo to his hostess.
+
+
+
+
+CROSS CURRENTS
+
+
+Vanessa Pennington had a husband who was poor, with few extenuating
+circumstances, and an admirer who, though comfortably rich, was cumbered
+with a sense of honour.  His wealth made him welcome in Vanessa's eyes,
+but his code of what was right impelled him to go away and forget her, or
+at the most to think of her in the intervals of doing a great many other
+things.  And although Alaric Clyde loved Vanessa, and thought he should
+always go on loving her, he gradually and unconsciously allowed himself
+to be wooed and won by a more alluring mistress; he fancied that his
+continued shunning of the haunts of men was a self-imposed exile, but his
+heart was caught in the spell of the Wilderness, and the Wilderness was
+kind and beautiful to him.  When one is young and strong and unfettered
+the wild earth can be very kind and very beautiful.  Witness the legion
+of men who were once young and unfettered and now eat out their souls in
+dustbins, because, having erstwhile known and loved the Wilderness, they
+broke from her thrall and turned aside into beaten paths.
+
+In the high waste places of the world Clyde roamed and hunted and
+dreamed, death-dealing and gracious as some god of Hellas, moving with
+his horses and servants and four-footed camp followers from one dwelling
+ground to another, a welcome guest among wild primitive village folk and
+nomads, a friend and slayer of the fleet, shy beasts around him.  By the
+shores of misty upland lakes he shot the wild fowl that had winged their
+way to him across half the old world; beyond Bokhara he watched the wild
+Aryan horsemen at their gambols; watched, too, in some dim-lit tea-house
+one of those beautiful uncouth dances that one can never wholly forget;
+or, making a wide cast down to the valley of the Tigris, swam and rolled
+in its snow-cooled racing waters.  Vanessa, meanwhile, in a Bayswater
+back street, was making out the weekly laundry list, attending bargain
+sales, and, in her more adventurous moments, trying new ways of cooking
+whiting.  Occasionally she went to bridge parties, where, if the play was
+not illuminating, at least one learned a great deal about the private
+life of some of the Royal and Imperial Houses.  Vanessa, in a way, was
+glad that Clyde had done the proper thing.  She had a strong natural bias
+towards respectability, though she would have preferred to have been
+respectable in smarter surroundings, where her example would have done
+more good.  To be beyond reproach was one thing, but it would have been
+nicer to have been nearer to the Park.
+
+And then of a sudden her regard for respectability and Clyde's sense of
+what was right were thrown on the scrap-heap of unnecessary things.  They
+had been useful and highly important in their time, but the death of
+Vanessa's husband made them of no immediate moment.
+
+The news of the altered condition of things followed Clyde with leisurely
+persistence from one place of call to another, and at last ran him to a
+standstill somewhere in the Orenburg Steppe.  He would have found it
+exceedingly difficult to analyse his feelings on receipt of the tidings.
+The Fates had unexpectedly (and perhaps just a little officiously)
+removed an obstacle from his path.  He supposed he was overjoyed, but he
+missed the feeling of elation which he had experienced some four months
+ago when he had bagged a snow-leopard with a lucky shot after a day's
+fruitless stalking.  Of course he would go back and ask Vanessa to marry
+him, but he was determined on enforcing a condition; on no account would
+he desert his newer love.  Vanessa would have to agree to come out into
+the Wilderness with him.
+
+The lady hailed the return of her lover with even more relief than had
+been occasioned by his departure.  The death of John Pennington had left
+his widow in circumstances which were more straitened than ever, and the
+Park had receded even from her notepaper, where it had long been retained
+as a courtesy title on the principle that addresses are given to us to
+conceal our whereabouts.  Certainly she was more independent now than
+heretofore, but independence, which means so much to many women, was of
+little account to Vanessa, who came under the heading of the mere female.
+She made little ado about accepting Clyde's condition, and announced
+herself ready to follow him to the end of the world; as the world was
+round she nourished a complacent idea that in the ordinary course of
+things one would find oneself in the neighbourhood of Hyde Park Corner
+sooner or later no matter how far afield one wandered.
+
+East of Budapest her complacency began to filter away, and when she saw
+her husband treating the Black Sea with a familiarity which she had never
+been able to assume towards the English Channel, misgivings began to
+crowd in upon her.  Adventures which would have presented an amusing and
+enticing aspect to a better-bred woman aroused in Vanessa only the twin
+sensations of fright and discomfort.  Flies bit her, and she was
+persuaded that it was only sheer boredom that prevented camels from doing
+the same.  Clyde did his best, and a very good best it was, to infuse
+something of the banquet into their prolonged desert picnics, but even
+snow-cooled Heidsieck lost its flavour when you were convinced that the
+dusky cupbearer who served it with such reverent elegance was only
+waiting a convenient opportunity to cut your throat.  It was useless for
+Clyde to give Yussuf a character for devotion such as is rarely found in
+any Western servant.  Vanessa was well enough educated to know that all
+dusky-skinned people take human life as unconcernedly as Bayswater folk
+take singing lessons.
+
+And with a growing irritation and querulousness on her part came a
+further disenchantment, born of the inability of husband and wife to find
+a common ground of interest.  The habits and migrations of the sand
+grouse, the folklore and customs of Tartars and Turkomans, the points of
+a Cossack pony--these were matter which evoked only a bored indifference
+in Vanessa.  On the other hand, Clyde was not thrilled on being informed
+that the Queen of Spain detested mauve, or that a certain Royal duchess,
+for whose tastes he was never likely to be called on to cater, nursed a
+violent but perfectly respectable passion for beef olives.
+
+Vanessa began to arrive at the conclusion that a husband who added a
+roving disposition to a settled income was a mixed blessing.  It was one
+thing to go to the end of the world; it was quite another thing to make
+oneself at home there.  Even respectability seemed to lose some of its
+virtue when one practised it in a tent.
+
+Bored and disillusioned with the drift of her new life, Vanessa was
+undisguisedly glad when distraction offered itself in the person of Mr.
+Dobrinton, a chance acquaintance whom they had first run against in the
+primitive hostelry of a benighted Caucasian town.  Dobrinton was
+elaborately British, in deference perhaps to the memory of his mother,
+who was said to have derived part of her origin from an English governess
+who had come to Lemberg a long way back in the last century.  If you had
+called him Dobrinski when off his guard he would probably have responded
+readily enough; holding, no doubt, that the end crowns all, he had taken
+a slight liberty with the family patronymic.  To look at, Mr. Dobrinton
+was not a very attractive specimen of masculine humanity, but in
+Vanessa's eyes he was a link with that civilisation which Clyde seemed so
+ready to ignore and forgo.  He could sing "Yip-I-Addy" and spoke of
+several duchesses as if he knew them--in his more inspired moments almost
+as if they knew him.  He even pointed out blemishes in the cuisine or
+cellar departments of some of the more august London restaurants, a
+species of Higher Criticism which was listened to by Vanessa in
+awe-stricken admiration.  And, above all, he sympathised, at first
+discreetly, afterwards with more latitude, with her fretful discontent at
+Clyde's nomadic instincts.  Business connected with oil-wells had brought
+Dobrinton to the neighbourhood of Baku; the pleasure of appealing to an
+appreciative female audience induced him to deflect his return journey so
+as to coincide a good deal with his new aquaintances' line of march.  And
+while Clyde trafficked with Persian horse-dealers or hunted the wild grey
+pigs in their lairs and added to his notes on Central Asian game-fowl,
+Dobrinton and the lady discussed the ethics of desert respectability from
+points of view that showed a daily tendency to converge.  And one evening
+Clyde dined alone, reading between the courses a long letter from
+Vanessa, justifying her action in flitting to more civilised lands with a
+more congenial companion.
+
+It was distinctly evil luck for Vanessa, who really was thoroughly
+respectable at heart, that she and her lover should run into the hands of
+Kurdish brigands on the first day of their flight.  To be mewed up in a
+squalid Kurdish village in close companionship with a man who was only
+your husband by adoption, and to have the attention of all Europe drawn
+to your plight, was about the least respectable thing that could happen.
+And there were international complications, which made things worse.
+"English lady and her husband, of foreign nationality, held by Kurdish
+brigands who demand ransom" had been the report of the nearest Consul.
+Although Dobrinton was British at heart, the other portions of him
+belonged to the Habsburgs, and though the Habsburgs took no great pride
+or pleasure in this particular unit of their wide and varied possessions,
+and would gladly have exchanged him for some interesting bird or mammal
+for the Schoenbrunn Park, the code of international dignity demanded that
+they should display a decent solicitude for his restoration.  And while
+the Foreign Offices of the two countries were taking the usual steps to
+secure the release of their respective subjects a further horrible
+complication ensued.  Clyde, following on the track of the fugitives, not
+with any special desire to overtake them, but with a dim feeling that it
+was expected of him, fell into the hands of the same community of
+brigands.  Diplomacy, while anxious to do its best for a lady in
+misfortune, showed signs of becoming restive at this expansion of its
+task; as a frivolous young gentleman in Downing Street remarked, "Any
+husband of Mrs. Dobrinton's we shall be glad to extricate, but let us
+know how many there are of them."  For a woman who valued respectability
+Vanessa really had no luck.
+
+Meanwhile the situation of the captives was not free from embarrassment.
+When Clyde explained to the Kurdish headmen the nature of his
+relationship with the runaway couple they were gravely sympathetic, but
+vetoed any idea of summary vengeance, since the Habsburgs would be sure
+to insist on the delivery of Dobrinton alive, and in a reasonably
+undamaged condition.  They did not object to Clyde administering a
+beating to his rival for half an hour every Monday and Thursday, but
+Dobrinton turned such a sickly green when he heard of this arrangement
+that the chief was obliged to withdraw the concession.
+
+And so, in the cramped quarters of a mountain hut, the ill-assorted trio
+watched the insufferable hours crawl slowly by.  Dobrinton was too
+frightened to be conversational, Vanessa was too mortified to open her
+lips, and Clyde was moodily silent.  The little Limberg _negociant_
+plucked up heart once to give a quavering rendering of "Yip-I-Addy," but
+when he reached the statement "home was never like this" Vanessa
+tearfully begged him to stop.  And silence fastened itself with growing
+insistence on the three captives who were so tragically herded together;
+thrice a day they drew near to one another to swallow the meal that had
+been prepared for them, like desert beasts meeting in mute suspended
+hostility at the drinking pool, and then drew back to resume the vigil of
+waiting.
+
+Clyde was less carefully watched than the others.  "Jealousy will keep
+him to the woman's side," thought his Kurdish captors.  They did not know
+that his wilder, truer love was calling to him with a hundred voices from
+beyond the village bounds.  And one evening, finding that he was not
+getting the attention to which he was entitled, Clyde slipped away down
+the mountain side and resumed his study of Central Asian game-fowl.  The
+remaining captives were guarded henceforth with greater rigour, but
+Dobrinton at any rate scarcely regretted Clyde's departure.
+
+The long arm, or perhaps one might better say the long purse, of
+diplomacy at last effected the release of the prisoners, but the
+Habsburgs were never to enjoy the guerdon of their outlay.  On the quay
+of the little Black Sea port, where the rescued pair came once more into
+contact with civilisation, Dobrinton was bitten by a dog which was
+assumed to be mad, though it may only have been indiscriminating.  The
+victim did not wait for symptoms of rabies to declare themselves, but
+died forthwith of fright, and Vanessa made the homeward journey alone,
+conscious somehow of a sense of slightly restored respectability.  Clyde,
+in the intervals of correcting the proofs of his book on the game-fowl of
+Central Asia, found time to press a divorce suit through the Courts, and
+as soon as possible hied him away to the congenial solitudes of the Gobi
+Desert to collect material for a work on the fauna of that region.
+Vanessa, by virtue perhaps of her earlier intimacy with the cooking rites
+of the whiting, obtained a place on the kitchen staff of a West End club.
+It was not brilliant, but at least it was within two minutes of the Park.
+
+
+
+
+THE BAKER'S DOZEN
+
+
+_Characters_--
+
+  Major Richard Dumbarton.
+
+  Mrs. Carewe.
+
+  Mrs. Paly-Paget.
+
+_Scene_--Deck of eastward-bound steamer.  Major Dumbarton seated on
+deck-chair, another chair by his side, with the name "Mrs. Carewe"
+painted on it, a third near by.
+
+(Enter R. Mrs. Carewe, seats herself leisurely in her deck-chair, the
+Major affecting to ignore her presence.)
+
+_Major_ (turning suddenly): Emily!  After all these years!  This is fate!
+
+_Em._: Fate!  Nothing of the sort; it's only me.  You men are always such
+fatalists.  I deferred my departure three whole weeks, in order to come
+out in the same boat that I saw you were travelling by.  I bribed the
+steward to put out chairs side by side in an unfrequented corner, and I
+took enormous pains to be looking particularly attractive this morning,
+and then you say "This is fate."  I am looking particularly attractive,
+am I not?
+
+_Maj._: More than ever.  Time has only added a ripeness to your charms.
+
+_Em._: I knew you'd put it exactly in those words.  The phraseology of
+love-making is awfully limited, isn't it?  After all, the chief charm is
+in the fact of being made love to.  You _are_ making love to me, aren't
+you?
+
+_Maj._: Emily dearest, I had already begun making advances, even before
+you sat down here.  I also bribed the steward to put our seats together
+in a secluded corner.  "You may consider it done, sir," was his reply.
+That was immediately after breakfast.
+
+_Em._: How like a man to have his breakfast first.  I attended to the
+seat business as soon as I left my cabin.
+
+_Maj._: Don't be unreasonable.  It was only at breakfast that I
+discovered your blessed presence on the boat.  I paid violent and unusual
+attention to a flapper all through the meal in order to make you jealous.
+She's probably in her cabin writing reams about me to a fellow-flapper at
+this very moment.
+
+_Em._: You needn't have taken all that trouble to make me jealous,
+Dickie.  You did that years ago, when you married another woman.
+
+_Maj._: Well, you had gone and married another man--a widower, too, at
+that.
+
+_Em._: Well, there's no particular harm in marrying a widower, I suppose.
+I'm ready to do it again, if I meet a really nice one.
+
+_Maj._: Look here, Emily, it's not fair to go at that rate.  You're a lap
+ahead of me the whole time.  It's my place to propose to you; all you've
+got to do is to say "Yes."
+
+_Em._: Well, I've practically said it already, so we needn't dawdle over
+that part.
+
+_Maj._: Oh, well--
+
+(They look at each other, then suddenly embrace with considerable
+energy.)
+
+_Maj._: We dead-heated it that time.  (Suddenly jumping to his feet) Oh,
+d--- I'd forgotten!
+
+_Em._: Forgotten what?
+
+_Maj._: The children.  I ought to have told you.  Do you mind children?
+
+_Em._: Not in moderate quantities.  How many have you got?
+
+_Maj._ (counting hurriedly on his fingers): Five.
+
+_Em._: Five!
+
+_Maj._ (anxiously): Is that too many?
+
+_Em._: It's rather a number.  The worst of it is, I've some myself.
+
+_Maj._: Many?
+
+_Em._: Eight.
+
+_Maj._: Eight in six years!  Oh, Emily!
+
+_Em._: Only four were my own.  The other four were by my husband's first
+marriage.  Still, that practically makes eight.
+
+_Maj._: And eight and five make thirteen.  We can't start our married
+life with thirteen children; it would be most unlucky.  (Walks up and
+down in agitation.)  Some way must be found out of this.  If we could
+only bring them down to twelve.  Thirteen is so horribly unlucky.
+
+_Em._: Isn't there some way by which we could part with one or two? Don't
+the French want more children?  I've often seen articles about it in the
+_Figaro_.
+
+_Maj._: I fancy they want French children.  Mine don't even speak French.
+
+_Em._: There's always a chance that one of them might turn out depraved
+and vicious, and then you could disown him.  I've heard of that being
+done.
+
+_Maj._: But, good gracious, you've got to educate him first.  You can't
+expect a boy to be vicious till he's been to a good school.
+
+_Em._: Why couldn't he be naturally depraved?  Lots of boys are.
+
+_Maj._: Only when they inherit it from depraved parents.  You don't
+suppose there's any depravity in me, do you?
+
+_Em._: It sometimes skips a generation, you know.  Weren't any of your
+family bad?
+
+_Maj._: There was an aunt who was never spoken of.
+
+_Em._: There you are!
+
+_Maj._: But one can't build too much on that.  In mid-Victorian days they
+labelled all sorts of things as unspeakable that we should speak about
+quite tolerantly.  I dare say this particular aunt had only married a
+Unitarian, or rode to hounds on both sides of her horse, or something of
+that sort.  Anyhow, we can't wait indefinitely for one of the children to
+take after a doubtfully depraved great-aunt.  Something else must be
+thought of.
+
+_Em._: Don't people ever adopt children from other families?
+
+_Maj._: I've heard of it being done by childless couples, and those sort
+of people--
+
+_Em._: Hush!  Some one's coming.  Who is it?
+
+_Maj._: Mrs. Paly-Paget.
+
+_Em._: The very person!
+
+_Maj._: What, to adopt a child?  Hasn't she got any?
+
+_Em._: Only one miserable hen-baby.
+
+_Maj._: Let's sound her on the subject.
+
+(Enter Mrs. Paly-Paget, R.)
+
+Ah, good morning.  Mrs. Paly-Paget.  I was just wondering at breakfast
+where did we meet last?
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: At the Criterion, wasn't it?
+
+(Drops into vacant chair.)
+
+_Maj._: At the Criterion, of course.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: I was dining with Lord and Lady Slugford.  Charming people,
+but so mean.  They took us afterwards to the Velodrome, to see some
+dancer interpreting Mendelssohn's "song without clothes." We were all
+packed up in a little box near the roof, and you may imagine how hot it
+was.  It was like a Turkish bath.  And, of course, one couldn't see
+anything.
+
+_Maj._: Then it was not like a Turkish bath.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Major!
+
+_Em._: We were just talking of you when you joined us.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Really!  Nothing very dreadful, I hope.
+
+_Em._: Oh dear, no!  It's too early on the voyage for that sort of thing.
+We were feeling rather sorry for you.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Sorry for me?  Whatever for?
+
+_Maj._: Your childless hearth and all that, you know.  No little
+pattering feet.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Major!  How dare you?  I've got my little girl, I suppose
+you know.  Her feet can patter as well as other children's.
+
+_Maj._: Only one pair of feet.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Certainly.  My child isn't a centipede.  Considering the
+way they move us about in those horrid jungle stations, without a decent
+bungalow to set one's foot in, I consider I've got a hearthless child,
+rather than a childless hearth.  Thank you for your sympathy all the
+same.  I dare say it was well meant.  Impertinence often is.
+
+_Em._: Dear Mrs. Paly-Paget, we were only feeling sorry for your sweet
+little girl when she grows older, you know.  No little brothers and
+sisters to play with.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Mrs. Carewe, this conversation strikes me as being
+indelicate, to say the least of it.  I've only been married two and a
+half years, and my family is naturally a small one.
+
+_Maj._: Isn't it rather an exaggeration to talk of one little female
+child as a family?  A family suggests numbers.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._: Really, Major, you language is extraordinary.  I dare say
+I've only got a little female child, as you call it, at present--
+
+_Maj._: Oh, it won't change into a boy later on, if that's what you're
+counting on.  Take our word for it; we've had so much more experience in
+these affairs than you have.  Once a female, always a female.  Nature is
+not infallible, but she always abides by her mistakes.
+
+_Mrs. P.-P._ (rising): Major Dumbarton, these boats are uncomfortably
+small, but I trust we shall find ample accommodation for avoiding each
+other's society during the rest of the voyage.  The same wish applies to
+you, Mrs. Carewe.
+
+(Exit Mrs. Paly-Paget, L.)
+
+_Maj._: What an unnatural mother!  (Sinks into chair.)
+
+_Em._: I wouldn't trust a child with any one who had a temper like hers.
+Oh, Dickie, why did you go and have such a large family?  You always said
+you wanted me to be the mother of your children.
+
+_Maj._: I wasn't going to wait while you were founding and fostering
+dynasties in other directions.  Why you couldn't be content to have
+children of your own, without collecting them like batches of postage
+stamps I can't think.  The idea of marrying a man with four children!
+
+_Em._: Well, you're asking me to marry one with five.
+
+_Maj._: Five!  (Springing to his feet)  Did I say five?
+
+_Em._: You certainly said five.
+
+_Maj._: Oh, Emily, supposing I've miscounted them!  Listen now, keep
+count with me.  Richard--that's after me, of course.
+
+_Em._: One.
+
+_Maj._: Albert-Victor--that must have been in Coronation year.
+
+_Em._: Two!
+
+_Maj._: Maud.  She's called after--
+
+_Em._: Never mind who's she's called after.  Three!
+
+_Maj._: And Gerald.
+
+_Em._: Four!
+
+_Maj._: That's the lot.
+
+_Em._: Are you sure?
+
+_Maj._: I swear that's the lot.  I must have counted Albert-Victor as
+two.
+
+_Em._: Richard!
+
+_Maj._: Emily!
+
+                             (They embrace.)
+
+
+
+
+THE MOUSE
+
+
+Theodoric Voler had been brought up, from infancy to the confines of
+middle age, by a fond mother whose chief solicitude had been to keep him
+screened from what she called the coarser realities of life.  When she
+died she left Theodoric alone in a world that was as real as ever, and a
+good deal coarser than he considered it had any need to be.  To a man of
+his temperament and upbringing even a simple railway journey was crammed
+with petty annoyances and minor discords, and as he settled himself down
+in a second-class compartment one September morning he was conscious of
+ruffled feelings and general mental discomposure.  He had been staying at
+a country vicarage, the inmates of which had been certainly neither
+brutal nor bacchanalian, but their supervision of the domestic
+establishment had been of that lax order which invites disaster.  The
+pony carriage that was to take him to the station had never been properly
+ordered, and when the moment for his departure drew near the handy-man
+who should have produced the required article was nowhere to be found.
+In this emergency Theodoric, to his mute but very intense disgust, found
+himself obliged to collaborate with the vicar's daughter in the task of
+harnessing the pony, which necessitated groping about in an ill-lighted
+outhouse called a stable, and smelling very like one--except in patches
+where it smelt of mice.  Without being actually afraid of mice, Theodoric
+classed them among the coarser incidents of life, and considered that
+Providence, with a little exercise of moral courage, might long ago have
+recognised that they were not indispensable, and have withdrawn them from
+circulation.  As the train glided out of the station Theodoric's nervous
+imagination accused himself of exhaling a weak odour of stable-yard, and
+possibly of displaying a mouldy straw or two on his usually well-brushed
+garments.  Fortunately the only other occupant of the compartment, a lady
+of about the same age as himself, seemed inclined for slumber rather than
+scrutiny; the train was not due to stop till the terminus was reached, in
+about an hour's time, and the carriage was of the old-fashioned sort,
+that held no communication with a corridor, therefore no further
+travelling companions were likely to intrude on Theodoric's semi-privacy.
+And yet the train had scarcely attained its normal speed before he became
+reluctantly but vividly aware that he was not alone with the slumbering
+lady; he was not even alone in his own clothes.  A warm, creeping
+movement over his flesh betrayed the unwelcome and highly resented
+presence, unseen but poignant, of a strayed mouse, that had evidently
+dashed into its present retreat during the episode of the pony
+harnessing.  Furtive stamps and shakes and wildly directed pinches failed
+to dislodge the intruder, whose motto, indeed, seemed to be Excelsior;
+and the lawful occupant of the clothes lay back against the cushions and
+endeavoured rapidly to evolve some means for putting an end to the dual
+ownership.  It was unthinkable that he should continue for the space of a
+whole hour in the horrible position of a Rowton House for vagrant mice
+(already his imagination had at least doubled the numbers of the alien
+invasion).  On the other hand, nothing less drastic than partial
+disrobing would ease him of his tormentor, and to undress in the presence
+of a lady, even for so laudable a purpose, was an idea that made his
+eartips tingle in a blush of abject shame.  He had never been able to
+bring himself even to the mild exposure of open-work socks in the
+presence of the fair sex.  And yet--the lady in this case was to all
+appearances soundly and securely asleep; the mouse, on the other hand,
+seemed to be trying to crowd a Wanderjahr into a few strenuous minutes.
+If there is any truth in the theory of transmigration, this particular
+mouse must certainly have been in a former state a member of the Alpine
+Club.  Sometimes in its eagerness it lost its footing and slipped for
+half an inch or so; and then, in fright, or more probably temper, it bit.
+Theodoric was goaded into the most audacious undertaking of his life.
+Crimsoning to the hue of a beetroot and keeping an agonised watch on his
+slumbering fellow-traveller, he swiftly and noiselessly secured the ends
+of his railway-rug to the racks on either side of the carriage, so that a
+substantial curtain hung athwart the compartment.  In the narrow
+dressing-room that he had thus improvised he proceeded with violent haste
+to extricate himself partially and the mouse entirely from the
+surrounding casings of tweed and half-wool.  As the unravelled mouse gave
+a wild leap to the floor, the rug, slipping its fastening at either end,
+also came down with a heart-curdling flop, and almost simultaneously the
+awakened sleeper opened her eyes.  With a movement almost quicker than
+the mouse's, Theodoric pounced on the rug, and hauled its ample folds
+chin-high over his dismantled person as he collapsed into the further
+corner of the carriage.  The blood raced and beat in the veins of his
+neck and forehead, while he waited dumbly for the communication-cord to
+be pulled.  The lady, however, contented herself with a silent stare at
+her strangely muffled companion.  How much had she seen, Theodoric
+queried to himself, and in any case what on earth must she think of his
+present posture?
+
+"I think I have caught a chill," he ventured desperately.
+
+"Really, I'm sorry," she replied.  "I was just going to ask you if you
+would open this window."
+
+"I fancy it's malaria," he added, his teeth chattering slightly, as much
+from fright as from a desire to support his theory.
+
+"I've got some brandy in my hold-all, if you'll kindly reach it down for
+me," said his companion.
+
+"Not for worlds--I mean, I never take anything for it," he assured her
+earnestly.
+
+"I suppose you caught it in the Tropics?"
+
+Theodoric, whose acquaintance with the Tropics was limited to an annual
+present of a chest of tea from an uncle in Ceylon, felt that even the
+malaria was slipping from him.  Would it be possible, he wondered, to
+disclose the real state of affairs to her in small instalments?
+
+"Are you afraid of mice?" he ventured, growing, if possible, more scarlet
+in the face.
+
+"Not unless they came in quantities, like those that ate up Bishop Hatto.
+Why do you ask?"
+
+"I had one crawling inside my clothes just now," said Theodoric in a
+voice that hardly seemed his own.  "It was a most awkward situation."
+
+"It must have been, if you wear your clothes at all tight," she observed;
+"but mice have strange ideas of comfort."
+
+"I had to get rid of it while you were asleep," he continued; then, with
+a gulp, he added, "it was getting rid of it that brought me to--to this."
+
+"Surely leaving off one small mouse wouldn't bring on a chill," she
+exclaimed, with a levity that Theodoric accounted abominable.
+
+Evidently she had detected something of his predicament, and was enjoying
+his confusion.  All the blood in his body seemed to have mobilised in one
+concentrated blush, and an agony of abasement, worse than a myriad mice,
+crept up and down over his soul.  And then, as reflection began to assert
+itself, sheer terror took the place of humiliation.  With every minute
+that passed the train was rushing nearer to the crowded and bustling
+terminus where dozens of prying eyes would be exchanged for the one
+paralysing pair that watched him from the further corner of the carriage.
+There was one slender despairing chance, which the next few minutes must
+decide.  His fellow-traveller might relapse into a blessed slumber.  But
+as the minutes throbbed by that chance ebbed away.  The furtive glance
+which Theodoric stole at her from time to time disclosed only an
+unwinking wakefulness.
+
+"I think we must be getting near now," she presently observed.
+
+Theodoric had already noted with growing terror the recurring stacks of
+small, ugly dwellings that heralded the journey's end.  The words acted
+as a signal.  Like a hunted beast breaking cover and dashing madly
+towards some other haven of momentary safety he threw aside his rug, and
+struggled frantically into his dishevelled garments.  He was conscious of
+dull surburban stations racing past the window, of a choking, hammering
+sensation in his throat and heart, and of an icy silence in that corner
+towards which he dared not look.  Then as he sank back in his seat,
+clothed and almost delirious, the train slowed down to a final crawl, and
+the woman spoke.
+
+"Would you be so kind," she asked, "as to get me a porter to put me into
+a cab?  It's a shame to trouble you when you're feeling unwell, but being
+blind makes one so helpless at a railway station."
+
+                               _Printed by_
+                         MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED
+                               _Edinburgh_
+
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REGINALD IN RUSSIA***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 1870.txt or 1870.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/7/1870
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/1870.zip b/1870.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6682304
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1870.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..acf159e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #1870 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1870)
diff --git a/old/rgrus10.txt b/old/rgrus10.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8a4b368
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/rgrus10.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2941 @@
+Project Gutenberg Etext of Reginald in Russia etc by Saki(Munro)
+#4 in our series by Saki (H.H. Munro)
+
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
+the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!!
+
+Please take a look at the important information in this header.
+We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
+electronic path open for the next readers.  Do not remove this.
+
+
+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
+
+**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
+
+*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
+
+Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
+further information is included below.  We need your donations.
+
+
+Reginald in Russia and Other Sketches
+
+by Saki (H.H. Munro)
+
+August, 1999  [Etext #1870]
+
+
+Project Gutenberg Etext of Reginald in Russia etc by Saki(Munro)
+******This file should be named rgrus10.txt or rgrus10.zip******
+
+Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, rgrus11.txt
+VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, rgrus10a.txt
+
+
+This etext was prepared by Jane Duff; proofed by David Price, email
+ccx074@coventry.ac.uk from the 1910 Methuen and Co. edition.
+
+Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions,
+all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a
+copyright notice is included.  Therefore, we do usually do NOT! keep
+these books in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
+of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
+
+Please note:  neither this list nor its contents are final till
+midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
+The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
+Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
+preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
+and editing by those who wish to do so.  To be sure you have an
+up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
+in the first week of the next month.  Since our ftp program has
+a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
+look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
+new copy has at least one byte more or less.
+
+
+Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
+
+We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
+time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
+to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
+searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.  This
+projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If our value
+per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
+million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text
+files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+
+If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the
+total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year.
+
+The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
+Files by December 31, 2001.  [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion]
+This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
+which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users.
+
+At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third
+of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we
+manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly
+from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an
+assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few
+more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we
+don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person.
+
+We need your donations more than ever!
+
+
+All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are
+tax deductible to the extent allowable by law.  (CMU = Carnegie-
+Mellon University).
+
+For these and other matters, please mail to:
+
+Project Gutenberg
+P. O. Box  2782
+Champaign, IL 61825
+
+When all other email fails. . .try our Executive Director:
+Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
+hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org
+if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if
+it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . .
+
+We would prefer to send you this information by email.
+
+******
+
+To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser
+to view http://promo.net/pg.  This site lists Etexts by
+author and by title, and includes information about how
+to get involved with Project Gutenberg.  You could also
+download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here.  This
+is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com,
+for a more complete list of our various sites.
+
+To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any
+Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror
+sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed
+at http://promo.net/pg).
+
+Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better.
+
+Example FTP session:
+
+ftp sunsite.unc.edu
+login: anonymous
+password: your@login
+cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg
+cd etext90 through etext99
+dir [to see files]
+get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
+GET GUTINDEX.??  [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99]
+GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books]
+
+***
+
+**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
+
+(Three Pages)
+
+
+***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
+Why is this "Small Print!" statement here?  You know: lawyers.
+They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
+your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
+someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
+fault.  So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
+disclaims most of our liability to you.  It also tells you how
+you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
+
+*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
+By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
+etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
+this "Small Print!" statement.  If you do not, you can receive
+a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
+sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
+you got it from.  If you received this etext on a physical
+medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
+
+ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
+This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
+tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor
+Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at
+Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project").  Among other
+things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
+on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
+distribute it in the United States without permission and
+without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules, set forth
+below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
+under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
+
+To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
+efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
+works.  Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
+medium they may be on may contain "Defects".  Among other
+things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
+intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
+disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
+codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
+But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
+[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
+etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
+legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
+UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
+INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
+OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
+POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
+
+If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
+receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
+you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
+time to the person you received it from.  If you received it
+on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
+such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
+copy.  If you received it electronically, such person may
+choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
+receive it electronically.
+
+THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS".  NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
+TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
+PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
+
+Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
+the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
+above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
+may have other legal rights.
+
+INDEMNITY
+You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
+officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
+and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
+indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
+[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
+or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.
+
+DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
+You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
+disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
+"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
+or:
+
+[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
+     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
+     etext or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
+     if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
+     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
+     including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
+     cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
+     *EITHER*:
+
+     [*]  The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
+          does *not* contain characters other than those
+          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
+          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
+          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
+          author, and additional characters may be used to
+          indicate hypertext links; OR
+
+     [*]  The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
+          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
+          form by the program that displays the etext (as is
+          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
+          OR
+
+     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
+          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
+          etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
+          or other equivalent proprietary form).
+
+[2]  Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
+     "Small Print!" statement.
+
+[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
+     net profits you derive calculated using the method you
+     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
+     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
+     payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon
+     University" within the 60 days following each
+     date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)
+     your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.
+
+WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
+The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
+scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
+free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
+you can think of.  Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg
+Association / Carnegie-Mellon University".
+
+*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
+
+
+
+
+
+This etext was prepared by Jane Duff; proofed by David Price, email
+ccx074@coventry.ac.uk from the 1910 Methuen and Co. edition.
+
+
+
+
+
+REGINALD IN RUSSIA AND OTHER SKETCHES
+
+
+
+
+Contents:
+
+REGINALD IN RUSSIA
+THE RETICENCE OF LADY ANNE
+THE LOST SANJAK
+THE SEX THAT DOESN'T SHOP
+THE BLOOD-FEUD OF TOAD-WATER
+A YOUNG TURKISH CATASTROPHE
+JUDKIN OF THE PARCELS
+GABRIEL-ERNEST
+THE SAINT AND THE GOBLIN
+THE SOUL OF LAPLOSHKA
+THE BAG
+THE STRATEGIST
+CROSS CURRENTS
+THE BAKER'S DOZEN
+THE MOUSE
+
+
+
+REGINALD IN RUSSIA
+
+
+
+Reginald sat in a corner of the Princess's salon and tried to
+forgive the furniture, which started out with an obvious intention
+of being Louis Quinze, but relapsed at frequent intervals into
+Wilhelm II.
+
+He classified the Princess with that distinct type of woman that
+looks as if it habitually went out to feed hens in the rain.
+
+Her name was Olga; she kept what she hoped and believed to be a fox-
+terrier, and professed what she thought were Socialist opinions.  It
+is not necessary to be called Olga if you are a Russian Princess; in
+fact, Reginald knew quite a number who were called Vera; but the
+fox-terrier and the Socialism are essential.
+
+"The Countess Lomshen keeps a bull-dog," said the Princess suddenly.
+"In England is it more chic to have a bull-dog than a fox-terrier?"
+
+Reginald threw his mind back over the canine fashions of the last
+ten years and gave an evasive answer.
+
+"Do you think her handsome, the Countess Lomshen?" asked the
+Princess.
+
+Reginald thought the Countess's complexion suggested an exclusive
+diet of macaroons and pale sherry.  He said so.
+
+"But that cannot be possible," said the Princess triumphantly; "I've
+seen her eating fish-soup at Donon's."
+
+The Princess always defended a friend's complexion if it was really
+bad.  With her, as with a great many of her sex, charity began at
+homeliness and did not generally progress much farther.
+
+Reginald withdrew his macaroon and sherry theory, and became
+interested in a case of miniatures.
+
+"That?" said the Princess; "that is the old Princess Lorikoff.  She
+lived in Millionaya Street, near the Winter Palace, and was one of
+the Court ladies of the old Russian school.  Her knowledge of people
+and events was extremely limited; but she used to patronise every
+one who came in contact with her.  There was a story that when she
+died and left the Millionaya for Heaven she addressed St. Peter in
+her formal staccato French:  'Je suis la Princesse Lor-i-koff.  Il
+me donne grand plaisir a faire votre connaissance.  Je vous en prie
+me presenter au Bon Dieu.'  St. Peter made the desired introduction,
+and the Princess addressed le Bon Dieu:  'Je suis la Princesse Lor-
+i-koff.  Il me donne grand plaisir a faire votre connaissance.  On a
+souvent parle de vous a l'eglise de la rue Million.'"
+
+"Only the old and the clergy of Established churches know how to be
+flippant gracefully," commented Reginald; "which reminds me that in
+the Anglican Church in a certain foreign capital, which shall be
+nameless, I was present the other day when one of the junior
+chaplains was preaching in aid of distressed somethings or other,
+and he brought a really eloquent passage to a close with the remark,
+'The tears of the afflicted, to what shall I liken them--to
+diamonds?'  The other junior chaplain, who had been dozing out of
+professional jealousy, awoke with a start and asked hurriedly,
+'Shall I play to diamonds, partner?'  It didn't improve matters when
+the senior chaplain remarked dreamily but with painful distinctness,
+'Double diamonds.'  Every one looked at the preacher, half expecting
+him to redouble, but he contented himself with scoring what points
+he could under the circumstances."
+
+"You English are always so frivolous," said the Princess.  "In
+Russia we have too many troubles to permit of our being
+lighthearted."
+
+Reginald gave a delicate shiver, such as an Italian greyhound might
+give in contemplating the approach of an ice age of which he
+personally disapproved, and resigned himself to the inevitable
+political discussion.
+
+"Nothing that you hear about us in England is true," was the
+Princess's hopeful beginning.
+
+"I always refused to learn Russian geography at school," observed
+Reginald; "I was certain some of the names must be wrong."
+
+"Everything is wrong with our system of government," continued the
+Princess placidly.  "The Bureaucrats think only of their pockets,
+and the people are exploited and plundered in every direction, and
+everything is mismanaged."
+
+"With us," said Reginald, "a Cabinet usually gets the credit of
+being depraved and worthless beyond the bounds of human conception
+by the time it has been in office about four years."
+
+"But if it is a bad Government you can turn it out at the
+elections," argued the Princess.
+
+"As far as I remember, we generally do," said Reginald.
+
+"But here it is dreadful, every one goes to such extremes.  In
+England you never go to extremes."
+
+"We go to the Albert Hall," explained Reginald.
+
+"There is always a see-saw with us between repression and violence,"
+continued the Princess; "and the pity of it is the people are really
+not in the least inclined to be anything but peaceable.  Nowhere
+will you find people more good-natured, or family circles where
+there is more affection."
+
+"There I agree with you," said Reginald.  "I know a boy who lives
+somewhere on the French Quay who is a case in point.  His hair curls
+naturally, especially on Sundays, and he plays bridge well, even for
+a Russian, which is saying much.  I don't think he has any other
+accomplishments, but his family affection is really of a very high
+order.  When his maternal grandmother died he didn't go as far as to
+give up bridge altogether, but he declared on nothing but black
+suits for the next three months.  That, I think, was really
+beautiful."
+
+The Princess was not impressed.
+
+"I think you must be very self-indulgent and live only for
+amusement," she said, "a life of pleasure-seeking and card-playing
+and dissipation brings only dissatisfaction.  You will find that out
+some day."
+
+"Oh, I know it turns out that way sometimes," assented Reginald.
+"Forbidden fizz is often the sweetest."
+
+But the remark was wasted on the Princess, who preferred champagne
+that had at least a suggestion of dissolved barley-sugar.
+
+"I hope you will come and see me again," she said, in a tone that
+prevented the hope from becoming too infectious; adding as a happy
+afterthought, "you must come to stay with us in the country."
+
+Her particular part of the country was a few hundred versts the
+other side of Tamboff, with some fifteen miles of agrarian
+disturbance between her and the nearest neighbour.  Reginald felt
+that there is some privacy which should be sacred from intrusion.
+
+
+
+THE RETICENCE OF LADY ANNE
+
+
+
+Egbert came into the large, dimly lit drawing-room with the air of a
+man who is not certain whether he is entering a dovecote or a bomb
+factory, and is prepared for either eventuality.  The little
+domestic quarrel over the luncheon-table had not been fought to a
+definite finish, and the question was how far Lady Anne was in a
+mood to renew or forgo hostilities.  Her pose in the arm-chair by
+the tea-table was rather elaborately rigid; in the gloom of a
+December afternoon Egbert's pince-nez did not materially help him to
+discern the expression of her face.
+
+By way of breaking whatever ice might be floating on the surface he
+made a remark about a dim religious light.  He or Lady Anne were
+accustomed to make that remark between 4.30 and 6 on winter and late
+autumn evenings; it was a part of their married life.  There was no
+recognised rejoinder to it, and Lady Anne made none.
+
+Don Tarquinio lay astretch on the Persian rug, basking in the
+firelight with superb indifference to the possible ill-humour of
+Lady Anne.  His pedigree was as flawlessly Persian as the rug, and
+his ruff was coming into the glory of its second winter.  The page-
+boy, who had Renaissance tendencies, had christened him Don
+Tarquinio.  Left to themselves, Egbert and Lady Anne would
+unfailingly have called him Fluff, but they were not obstinate.
+
+Egbert poured himself out some tea.  As the silence gave no sign of
+breaking on Lady Anne's initiative, he braced himself for another
+Yermak effort.
+
+"My remark at lunch had a purely academic application," he
+announced; "you seem to put an unnecessarily personal significance
+into it."
+
+Lady Anne maintained her defensive barrier of silence.  The
+bullfinch lazily filled in the interval with an air from Iphigenie
+en Tauride.  Egbert recognised it immediately, because it was the
+only air the bullfinch whistled, and he had come to them with the
+reputation for whistling it.  Both Egbert and Lady Anne would have
+preferred something from The Yeomen of the Guard, which was their
+favourite opera.  In matters artistic they had a similarity of
+taste.  They leaned towards the honest and explicit in art, a
+picture, for instance, that told its own story, with generous
+assistance from its title.  A riderless warhorse with harness in
+obvious disarray, staggering into a courtyard full of pale swooning
+women, and marginally noted "Bad News", suggested to their minds a
+distinct interpretation of some military catastrophe.  They could
+see what it was meant to convey, and explain it to friends of duller
+intelligence.
+
+The silence continued.  As a rule Lady Anne's displeasure became
+articulate and markedly voluble after four minutes of introductory
+muteness.  Egbert seized the milkjug and poured some of its contents
+into Don Tarquinio's saucer; as the saucer was already full to the
+brim an unsightly overflow was the result.  Don Tarquinio looked on
+with a surprised interest that evanesced into elaborate
+unconsciousness when he was appealed to by Egbert to come and drink
+up some of the spilt matter.  Don Tarquinio was prepared to play
+many roles in life, but a vacuum carpet-cleaner was not one of them.
+
+"Don't you think we're being rather foolish?" said Egbert
+cheerfully.
+
+If Lady Anne thought so she didn't say so.
+
+"I dare say the fault has been partly on my side," continued Egbert,
+with evaporating cheerfulness.  "After all, I'm only human, you
+know.  You seem to forget that I'm only human."
+
+He insisted on the point, as if there had been unfounded suggestions
+that he was built on Satyr lines, with goat continuations where the
+human left off.
+
+The bullfinch recommenced its air from Iphigenie en Tauride.  Egbert
+began to feel depressed.  Lady Anne was not drinking her tea.
+Perhaps she was feeling unwell.  But when Lady Anne felt unwell she
+was not wont to be reticent on the subject.  "No one knows what I
+suffer from indigestion" was one of her favourite statements; but
+the lack of knowledge can only have been caused by defective
+listening; the amount of information available on the subject would
+have supplied material for a monograph.
+
+Evidently Lady Anne was not feeling unwell.
+
+Egbert began to think he was being unreasonably dealt with;
+naturally he began to make concessions.
+
+"I dare say," he observed, taking as central a position on the
+hearth-rug as Don Tarquinio could be persuaded to concede him, "I
+may have been to blame.  I am willing, if I can thereby restore
+things to a happier standpoint, to undertake to lead a better life."
+
+He wondered vaguely how it would be possible.  Temptations came to
+him, in middle age, tentatively and without insistence, like a
+neglected butcher-boy who asks for a Christmas box in February for
+no more hopeful reason that than he didn't get one in December.  He
+had no more idea of succumbing to them than he had of purchasing the
+fish-knives and fur boas that ladies are impelled to sacrifice
+through the medium of advertisement columns during twelve months of
+the year.  Still, there was something impressive in this unasked-for
+renunciation of possibly latent enormities.
+
+Lady Anne showed no sign of being impressed.
+
+Egbert looked at her nervously through his glasses.  To get the
+worst of an argument with her was no new experience.  To get the
+worst of a monologue was a humiliating novelty.
+
+"I shall go and dress for diner," he announced in a voice into which
+he intended some shade of sternness to creep.
+
+At the door a final access of weakness impelled him to make a
+further appeal.
+
+"Aren't we being very silly?"
+
+"A fool" was Don Tarquinio's mental comment as the door closed on
+Egbert's retreat.  Then he lifted his velvet forepaws in the air and
+leapt lightly on to a bookshelf immediately under the bullfinch's
+cage.  It was the first time he had seemed to notice the bird's
+existence, but he was carrying out a long-formed theory of action
+with the precision of mature deliberation.  The bullfinch, who had
+fancied himself something of a despot, depressed himself of a sudden
+into a third of his normal displacement; then he fell to a helpless
+wing-beating and shrill cheeping.  He had cost twenty-seven
+shillings without the cage, but Lady Anne made no sign of
+interfering.  She had been dead for two hours.
+
+
+
+THE LOST SANJAK
+
+
+
+The prison Chaplain entered the condemned's cell for the last time,
+to give such consolation as he might.
+
+"The only consolation I crave for," said the condemned, "is to tell
+my story in its entirety to some one who will at least give it a
+respectful hearing."
+
+"We must not be too long over it," said the Chaplain, looking at his
+watch.
+
+The condemned repressed a shiver and commenced.
+
+"Most people will be of opinion that I am paying the penalty of my
+own violent deeds.  In reality I am a victim to a lack of
+specialisation in my education and character."
+
+"Lack of specialisation!" said the Chaplain.
+
+"Yes.  If I had been known as one of the few men in England familiar
+with the fauna of the Outer Hebrides, or able to repeat stanzas of
+Camoens' poetry in the original, I should have had no difficulty in
+proving my identity in the crisis when my identity became a matter
+of life and death for me.  But my education was merely a moderately
+good one, and my temperament was of the general order that avoids
+specialisation.  I know a little in a general way about gardening
+and history and old masters, but I could never tell you off-hand
+whether 'Stella van der Loopen' was a chrysanthemum or a heroine of
+the American War of Independence, or something by Romney in the
+Louvre."
+
+The Chaplain shifted uneasily in his seat.  Now that the
+alternatives had been suggested they all seemed dreadfully possible.
+
+"I fell in love, or thought I did, with the local doctor's wife,"
+continued the condemned.  "Why I should have done so, I cannot say,
+for I do not remember that she possessed any particular attractions
+of mind or body.  On looking back at past events if seems to me that
+she must have been distinctly ordinary, but I suppose the doctor had
+fallen in love with her once, and what man had done man can do.  She
+appeared to be pleased with the attentions which I paid her, and to
+that extent I suppose I might say she encouraged me, but I think she
+was honestly unaware that I meant anything more than a little
+neighbourly interest.  When one is face to face with Death one
+wishes to be just."
+
+The Chaplain murmured approval.  "At any rate, she was genuinely
+horrified when I took advantage of the doctor's absence one evening
+to declare what I believed to be my passion.  She begged me to pass
+out of her life, and I could scarcely do otherwise than agree,
+though I hadn't the dimmest idea of how it was to be done.  In
+novels and plays I knew it was a regular occurrence, and if you
+mistook a lady's sentiments or intentions you went off to India and
+did things on the frontier as a matter of course.  As I stumbled
+along the doctor's carriagedrive I had no very clear idea as to what
+my line of action was to be, but I had a vague feeling that I must
+look at the Times Atlas before going to bed.  Then, on the dark and
+lonely highway, I came suddenly on a dead body."
+
+The Chaplain's interest in the story visibly quickened.
+
+"Judging by the clothes it wore, the corpse was that of a Salvation
+Army captain.  Some shocking accident seemed to have struck him
+down, and the head was crushed and battered out of all human
+semblance.  Probably, I thought, a motor-car fatality; and then,
+with a sudden overmastering insistence, came another thought, that
+here was a remarkable opportunity for losing my identity and passing
+out of the life of the doctor's wife for ever.  No tiresome and
+risky voyage to distant lands, but a mere exchange of clothes and
+identity with the unknown victim of an unwitnessed accident.  With
+considerable difficulty I undressed the corpse, and clothed it anew
+in my own garments.  Any one who has valeted a dead Salvation Army
+captain in an uncertain light will appreciate the difficulty.  With
+the idea, presumably, of inducing the doctor's wife to leave her
+husband's roof-tree for some habitation which would be run at my
+expense, I had crammed my pockets with a store of banknotes, which
+represented a good deal of my immediate worldly wealth.  When,
+therefore, I stole away into the world in the guise of a nameless
+Salvationist, I was not without resources which would easily support
+so humble a role for a considerable period.  I tramped to a
+neighbouring market-town, and, late as the hour was, the production
+of a few shillings procured me supper and a night's lodging in a
+cheap coffee-house.  The next day I started forth on an aimless
+course of wandering from one small town to another.  I was already
+somewhat disgusted with the upshot of my sudden freak; in a few
+hours' time I was considerably more so.  In the contents-bill of a
+local news sheet I read the announcement of my own murder at the
+hands of some person unknown; on buying a copy of the paper for a
+detailed account of the tragedy, which at first had aroused in me a
+certain grim amusement, I found that the deed ascribed to a
+wandering Salvationist of doubtful antecedents, who had been seen
+lurking in the roadway near the scene of the crime.  I was no longer
+amused.  The matter promised to be embarrassing.  What I had
+mistaken for a motor accident was evidently a case of savage assault
+and murder, and, until the real culprit was found, I should have
+much difficulty in explaining my intrusion into the affair.  Of
+course I could establish my own identity; but how, without
+disagreeably involving the doctor's wife, could I give any adequate
+reason for changing clothes with the murdered man?  While my brain
+worked feverishly at this problem, I subconsciously obeyed a
+secondary instinct--to get as far away as possible from the scene of
+the crime, and to get rid at all costs of my incriminating uniform.
+There I found a difficulty.  I tried two or three obscure clothes
+shops, but my entrance invariably aroused an attitude of hostile
+suspicion in the proprietors, and on one excuse or another they
+avoided serving me with the now ardently desired change of clothing.
+The uniform that I had so thoughtlessly donned seemed as difficult
+to get out of as the fatal shirt of--You know, I forget the
+creature's name."
+
+"Yes, yes," said the Chaplain hurriedly.  "Go on with your story."
+
+"Somehow, until I could get out of those compromising garments, I
+felt it would not be safe to surrender myself to the police.  The
+thing that puzzled me was why no attempt was made to arrest me,
+since there was no question as to the suspicion which followed me,
+like an inseparable shadow, wherever I went.  Stares, nudgings,
+whisperings, and even loud-spoken remarks of 'that's 'im' greeted my
+every appearance, and the meanest and most deserted eating-house
+that I patronised soon became filled with a crowd of furtively
+watching customers.  I began to sympathise with the feeling of Royal
+personages trying to do a little private shopping under the
+unsparing scrutiny of an irrepressible public.  And still, with all
+this inarticulate shadowing, which weighed on my nerves almost worse
+than open hostility would have done, no attempt was made to
+interfere with my liberty.  Later on I discovered the reason.  At
+the time of the murder on the lonely highway a series of important
+bloodhound trials had been taking place in the near neighbourhood,
+and some dozen and a half couples of trained animals had been put on
+the track of the supposed murderer--on my track.  One of our most
+public-spirited London dailies had offered a princely prize to the
+owner of the pair that should first track me down, and betting on
+the chances of the respective competitors became rife throughout the
+land.  The dogs ranged far and wide over about thirteen counties,
+and though my own movements had become by this time perfectly well-
+known to police and public alike, the sporting instincts of the
+nation stepped in to prevent my premature arrest.  "Give the dogs a
+chance," was the prevailing sentiment, whenever some ambitious local
+constable wished to put an end to my drawn-out evasion of justice.
+My final capture by the winning pair was not a very dramatic
+episode, in fact, I'm not sure that they would have taken any notice
+of me if I hadn't spoken to them and patted them, but the event gave
+rise to an extraordinary amount of partisan excitement.  The owner
+of the pair who were next nearest up at the finish was an American,
+and he lodged a protest on the ground that an otterhound had married
+into the family of the winning pair six generations ago, and that
+the prize had been offered to the first pair of bloodhounds to
+capture the murderer, and that a dog that had 1/64th part of
+otterhound blood in it couldn't technically be considered a
+bloodhound.  I forget how the matter was ultimately settled, but it
+aroused a tremendous amount of acrimonious discussion on both sides
+of the Atlantic.  My own contribution to the controversy consisted
+in pointing out that the whole dispute was beside the mark, as the
+actual murderer had not yet been captured; but I soon discovered
+that on this point there was not the least divergence of public or
+expert opinion.  I had looked forward apprehensively to the proving
+of my identity and the establishment of my motives as a disagreeable
+necessity; I speedily found out that the most disagreeable part of
+the business was that it couldn't be done.  When I saw in the glass
+the haggard and hunted expression which the experiences of the past
+few weeks had stamped on my erstwhile placid countenance, I could
+scarcely feel surprised that the few friends and relations I
+possessed refused to recognise me in my altered guise, and persisted
+in their obstinate but widely shared belief that it was I who had
+been done to death on the highway.  To make matters worse,
+infinitely worse, an aunt of the really murdered man, an appalling
+female of an obviously low order of intelligence, identified me as
+her nephew, and gave the authorities a lurid account of my depraved
+youth and of her laudable but unavailing efforts to spank me into a
+better way.  I believe it was even proposed to search me for
+fingerprints."
+
+"But," said the Chaplain, "surely your educational attainments--"
+
+"That was just the crucial point," said the condemned; "that was
+where my lack of specialisation told so fatally against me.  The
+dead Salvationist, whose identity I had so lightly and so
+disastrously adopted, had possessed a veneer of cheap modern
+education.  It should have been easy to demonstrate that my learning
+was on altogether another plane to his, but in my nervousness I
+bungled miserably over test after test that was put to me.  The
+little French I had ever known deserted me; I could not render a
+simple phrase about the gooseberry of the gardener into that
+language, because I had forgotten the French for gooseberry."
+
+The Chaplain again wriggled uneasily in his seat.  "And then,"
+resumed the condemned, "came the final discomfiture.  In our village
+we had a modest little debating club, and I remembered having
+promised, chiefly, I suppose, to please and impress the doctor's
+wife, to give a sketchy kind of lecture on the Balkan Crisis.  I had
+relied on being able to get up my facts from one or two standard
+works, and the back-numbers of certain periodicals.  The prosecution
+had made a careful note of the circumstance that the man whom I
+claimed to be--and actually was--had posed locally as some sort of
+second-hand authority on Balkan affairs, and, in the midst of a
+string of questions on indifferent topics, the examining counsel
+asked me with a diabolical suddenness if I could tell the Court the
+whereabouts of Novibazar.  I felt the question to be a crucial one;
+something told me that the answer was St. Petersburg or Baker
+Street.  I hesitated, looked helplessly round at the sea of tensely
+expectant faces, pulled myself together, and chose Baker Street.
+And then I knew that everything was lost.  The prosecution had no
+difficulty in demonstrating that an individual, even moderately
+versed in the affairs of the Near East, could never have so
+unceremoniously dislocated Novibazar from its accustomed corner of
+the map.  It was an answer which the Salvation Army captain might
+conceivably have made--and I made it.  The circumstantial evidence
+connecting the Salvationist with the crime was overwhelmingly
+convincing, and I had inextricably identified myself with the
+Salvationist.  And thus it comes to pass that in ten minutes' time I
+shall be hanged by the neck until I am dead in expiation of the
+murder of myself, which murder never took place, and of which, in
+any case, I am innocent."
+
+* * *
+
+When the Chaplain returned to his quarters some fifteen minutes
+later, the black flag was floating over the prison tower.  Breakfast
+was waiting for him in the dining-room, but he first passed into his
+library, and, taking up the Times Atlas, consulted a map of the
+Balkan Peninsula.  "A thing like that," he observed, closing the
+volume with a snap, "might happen to any one."
+
+
+
+THE SEX THAT DOESN'T SHOP
+
+
+
+The opening of a large new centre for West End shopping,
+particularly feminine shopping, suggests the reflection, Do women
+ever really shop?  Of course, it is a well-attested fact that they
+go forth shopping as assiduously as a bee goes flower-visiting, but
+do they shop in the practical sense of the word?  Granted the money,
+time, and energy, a resolute course of shopping transactions would
+naturally result in having one's ordinary domestic needs unfailingly
+supplied, whereas it is notorious that women servants (and
+housewives of all classes) make it almost a point of honour not to
+be supplied with everyday necessities.  "We shall be out of starch
+by Thursday," they say with fatalistic foreboding, and by Thursday
+they are out of starch.  They have predicted almost to a minute the
+moment when their supply would give out and if Thursday happens to
+be early closing day their triumph is complete.  A shop where starch
+is stored for retail purposes possibly stands at their very door,
+but the feminine mind has rejected such an obvious source for
+replenishing a dwindling stock.  "We don't deal there" places it at
+once beyond the pale of human resort.  And it is noteworthy that,
+just as a sheep-worrying dog seldom molests the flocks in his near
+neighbourhood, so a woman rarely deals with shops in her immediate
+vicinity.  The more remote the source of supply the more fixed seems
+to be the resolve to run short of the commodity.  The Ark had
+probably not quitted its last moorings five minutes before some
+feminine voice gloatingly recorded a shortage of bird-seed.  A few
+days ago two lady acquaintances of mine were confessing to some
+mental uneasiness because a friend had called just before lunch-
+time, and they had been unable to ask her to stop and share their
+meal, as (with a touch of legitimate pride) "there was nothing in
+the house."  I pointed out that they lived in a street that bristled
+with provision shops and that it would have been easy to mobilise a
+very passable luncheon in less than five minutes.  "That," they said
+with quiet dignity, "would not have occurred to us," and I felt that
+I had suggested something bordering on the indecent.
+
+But it is in catering for her literary wants that a woman's shopping
+capacity breaks down most completely.  If you have perchance
+produced a book which has met with some little measure of success,
+you are certain to get a letter from some lady whom you scarcely
+known to bow to, asking you "how it can be got."  She knows the name
+of the book, its author, and who published it, but how to get into
+actual contact with it is still an unsolved problem to her.  You
+write back pointing out that to have recourse to an ironmonger or a
+corn-dealer will only entail delay and disappointment, and suggest
+an application to a bookseller as the most hopeful thing you can
+think of.  In a day or two she writes again:  "It is all right; I
+have borrowed it from your aunt."  Here, of course, we have an
+example of the Beyond-Shopper, one who has learned the Better Way,
+but the helplessness exists even when such bypaths of relief are
+closed.  A lady who lives in the West End was expressing to me the
+other day her interest in West Highland terriers, and her desire to
+know more about the breed, so when, a few days later, I came across
+an exhaustive article on that subject in the current number of one
+of our best known outdoor-life weeklies, I mentioned that
+circumstance in a letter, giving the date of that number.  "I cannot
+get the paper," was her telephoned response.  And she couldn't.  She
+lived in a city where newsagents are numbered, I suppose, by the
+thousand, and she must have passed dozens of such shops in her daily
+shopping excursions, but as far as she was concerned that article on
+West Highland terriers might as well have been written in a missal
+stored away in some Buddhist monastery in Eastern Thibet.
+
+The brutal directness of the masculine shopper arouses a certain
+combative derision in the feminine onlooker.  A cat that spreads one
+shrew-mouse over the greater part of a long summer afternoon, and
+then possibly loses him, doubtless feels the same contempt for the
+terrier who compresses his rat into ten seconds of the strenuous
+life.  I was finishing off a short list of purchases a few
+afternoons ago when I was discovered by a lady of my acquaintance
+whom, swerving aside from the lead given us by her godparents thirty
+years ago, we will call Agatha.
+
+"You're surely not buying blotting-paper HERE?" she exclaimed in an
+agitated whisper, and she seemed so genuinely concerned that I
+stayed my hand.
+
+"Let me take you to Winks and Pinks," she said as soon as we were
+out of the building:  "they've got such lovely shades of blotting-
+paper--pearl and heliotrope and momie and crushed--"
+
+"But I want ordinary white blotting-paper," I said.
+
+"Never mind.  They know me at Winks and Pinks," she replied
+inconsequently.  Agatha apparently has an idea that blotting-paper
+is only sold in small quantities to persons of known reputation, who
+may be trusted not to put it to dangerous or improper uses.  After
+walking some two hundred yards she began to feel that her tea was of
+more immediate importance than my blotting-paper.
+
+"What do you want blotting-paper for?" she asked suddenly.  I
+explained patiently.
+
+"I use it to dry up the ink of wet manuscript without smudging the
+writing.  Probably a Chinese invention of the second century before
+Christ, but I'm not sure.  The only other use for it that I can
+think of is to roll it into a ball for a kitten to play with."
+
+"But you haven't got a kitten," said Agatha, with a feminine desire
+for stating the entire truth on most occasions.
+
+"A stray one might come in at any moment," I replied.
+
+Anyway, I didn't get the blotting-paper.
+
+
+
+THE BLOOD-FEUD OF TOAD-WATER
+A WEST-COUNTRY EPIC
+
+
+
+The Cricks lived at Toad-Water; and in the same lonely upland spot
+Fate had pitched the home of the Saunderses, and for miles around
+these two dwellings there was never a neighbour or a chimney or even
+a burying-ground to bring a sense of cheerful communion or social
+intercourse.  Nothing but fields and spinneys and barns, lanes and
+waste-lands.  Such was Toad-Water; and, even so, Toad-Water had its
+history.
+
+Thrust away in the benighted hinterland of a scattered market
+district, it might have been supposed that these two detached items
+of the Great Human Family would have leaned towards one another in a
+fellowship begotten of kindred circumstances and a common isolation
+from the outer world.  And perhaps it had been so once, but the way
+of things had brought it otherwise.  Indeed, otherwise.  Fate, which
+had linked the two families in such unavoidable association of
+habitat, had ordained that the Crick household should nourish and
+maintain among its earthly possessions sundry head of domestic
+fowls, while to the Saunderses was given a disposition towards the
+cultivation of garden crops.  Herein lay the material, ready to
+hand, for the coming of feud and ill-blood.  For the grudge between
+the man of herbs and the man of live stock is no new thing; you will
+find traces of it in the fourth chapter of Genesis.  And one sunny
+afternoon in late spring-time the feud came--came, as such things
+mostly do come, with seeming aimlessness and triviality.  One of the
+Crick hens, in obedience to the nomadic instincts of her kind,
+wearied of her legitimate scatching-ground, and flew over the low
+wall that divided the holdings of the neighbours.  And there, on the
+yonder side, with a hurried consciousness that her time and
+opportunities might be limited, the misguided bird scratched and
+scraped and beaked and delved in the soft yielding bed that had been
+prepared for the solace and well-being of a colony of seedling
+onions.  Little showers of earth-mould and root-fibres went spraying
+before the hen and behind her, and every minute the area of her
+operations widened.  The onions suffered considerably.  Mrs.
+Saunders, sauntering at this luckless moment down the garden path,
+in order to fill her soul with reproaches at the iniquity of the
+weeds, which grew faster than she or her good man cared to remove
+them, stopped in mute discomfiture before the presence of a more
+magnificent grievance.  And then, in the hour of her calamity, she
+turned instinctively to the Great Mother, and gathered in her
+capacious hands large clods of the hard brown soil that lay at her
+feet.  With a terrible sincerity of purpose, though with a
+contemptible inadequacy of aim, she rained her earth bolts at the
+marauder, and the bursting pellets called forth a flood of cackling
+protest and panic from the hastily departing fowl.  Calmness under
+misfortune is not an attribute of either hen-folk or womenkind, and
+while Mrs. Saunders declaimed over her onion bed such portions of
+the slang dictionary as are permitted by the Nonconformist
+conscience to be said or sung, the Vasco da Gama fowl was waking the
+echoes of Toad-Water with crescendo bursts of throat music which
+compelled attention to her griefs.  Mrs. Crick had a long family,
+and was therefore licensed, in the eyes of her world, to have a
+short temper, and when some of her ubiquitous offspring had informed
+her, with the authority of eye-witnesses, that her neighbour had so
+far forgotten herself as to heave stones at her hen--her best hen,
+the best layer in the countryside--her thoughts clothed themselves
+in language "unbecoming to a Christian woman"--so at least said Mrs.
+Saunders, to whom most of the language was applied.  Nor was she, on
+her part, surprised at Mrs. Crick's conduct in letting her hens
+stray into other body's gardens, and then abusing of them, seeing as
+how she remembered things against Mrs. Crick--and the latter
+simultaneously had recollections of lurking episodes in the past of
+Susan Saunders that were nothing to her credit.  "Fond memory, when
+all things fade we fly to thee," and in the paling light of an April
+afternoon the two women confronted each other from their respective
+sides of the party wall, recalling with shuddering breath the blots
+and blemishes of their neighbour's family record.  There was that
+aunt of Mrs. Crick's who had died a pauper in Exeter workhouse--
+every one knew that Mrs. Saunders' uncle on her mother's side drank
+himself to death--then there was that Bristol cousin of Mrs.
+Crick's!  From the shrill triumph with which his name was dragged
+in, his crime must have been pilfering from a cathedral at least,
+but as both remembrancers were speaking at once it was difficult to
+distinguish his infamy from the scandal which beclouded the memory
+of Mrs. Saunders' brother's wife's mother--who may have been a
+regicide, and was certainly not a nice person as Mrs. Crick painted
+her.  And then, with an air of accumulating and irresistible
+conviction, each belligerent informed the other that she was no
+lady--after which they withdrew in a great silence, feeling that
+nothing further remained to be said.  The chaffinches clinked in the
+apple trees and the bees droned round the berberis bushes, and the
+waning sunlight slanted pleasantly across the garden plots, but
+between the neighbour households had sprung up a barrier of hate,
+permeating and permanent.
+
+The male heads of the families were necessarily drawn into the
+quarrel, and the children on either side were forbidden to have
+anything to do with the unhallowed offspring of the other party.  As
+they had to travel a good three miles along the same road to school
+every day, this was awkward, but such things have to be.  Thus all
+communication between the households was sundered.  Except the cats.
+Much as Mrs. Saunders might deplore it, rumour persistently pointed
+to the Crick he-cat as the presumable father of sundry kittens of
+which the Saunders she-cat was indisputably the mother.  Mrs.
+Saunders drowned the kittens, but the disgrace remained.
+
+Summer succeeded spring, and winter summer, but the feud outlasted
+the waning seasons.  Once, indeed, it seemed as though the healing
+influences of religion might restore to Toad-Water its erstwhile
+peace; the hostile families found themselves side by side in the
+soul-kindling atmosphere of a Revival Tea, where hymns were blended
+with a beverage that came of tea-leaves and hot water and took after
+the latter parent, and where ghostly counsel was tempered by
+garnishings of solidly fashioned buns--and here, wrought up by the
+environment of festive piety, Mrs. Saunders so far unbent as to
+remark guardedly to Mrs. Crick that the evening had been a fine one.
+Mrs. Crick, under the influence of her ninth cup of tea and her
+fourth hymn, ventured on the hope that it might continue fine, but a
+maladroit allusion on the part of the Saunders good man to the
+backwardness of garden crops brought the Feud stalking forth from
+its corner with all its old bitterness.  Mrs. Saunders joined
+heartily in the singing of the final hymn, which told of peace and
+joy and archangels and golden glories; but her thoughts were
+dwelling on the pauper aunt of Exeter.
+
+Years have rolled away, and some of the actors in this wayside drama
+have passed into the Unknown; other onions have arisen, have
+flourished, have gone their way, and the offending hen has long
+since expiated her misdeeds and lain with trussed feet and a look of
+ineffable peace under the arched roof of Barnstaple market.
+
+But the Blood-feud of Toad-Water survives to this day.
+
+
+
+A YOUNG TURKISH CATASTROPHE
+IN TWO SCENES
+
+
+
+The Minister for Fine Arts (to whose Department had been lately
+added the new sub-section of Electoral Engineering) paid a business
+visit to the Grand Vizier.  According to Eastern etiquette they
+discoursed for a while on indifferent subjects.  The minister only
+checked himself in time from making a passing reference to the
+Marathon Race, remembering that the Vizier had a Persian grandmother
+and might consider any allusion to Marathon as somewhat tactless.
+Presently the Minister broached the subject of his interview.
+
+"Under the new Constitution are women to have votes?" he asked
+suddenly.
+
+"To have votes?  Women?" exclaimed the Vizier in some astonishment.
+"My dear Pasha, the New Departure has a flavour of the absurd as it
+is; don't let's try and make it altogether ridiculous.  Women have
+no souls and no intelligence; why on earth should they have votes?"
+
+"I know it sounds absurd," said the Minister, "but they are
+seriously considering the idea in the West."
+
+"Then they must have a larger equipment of seriousness than I gave
+them credit for.  After a lifetime of specialised effort in
+maintaining my gravity I can scarcely restrain an inclination to
+smile at the suggestion.  Why, out womenfolk in most cases don't
+know how to read or write.  How could they perform the operation of
+voting?"
+
+"They could be shown the names of the candidates and where to make
+their cross."
+
+"I beg your pardon?" interrupted the Vizier.
+
+"Their crescent, I mean," corrected the Minister.  "It would be to
+the liking of the Young Turkish Party," he added.
+
+"Oh, well," said the Vizier, "if we are to do the thing at all we
+may as well go the whole h- " he pulled up just as he was uttering
+the name of an unclean animal, and continued, "the complete camel.
+I will issue instructions that womenfolk are to have votes."
+
+* * *
+
+The poll was drawing to a close in the Lakoumistan division.  The
+candidate of the Young Turkish Party was known to be three or four
+hundred votes ahead, and he was already drafting his address,
+returning thanks to the electors.  His victory had been almost a
+foregone conclusion, for he had set in motion all the approved
+electioneering machinery of the West.  He had even employed
+motorcars.  Few of his supporters had gone to the poll in these
+vehicles, but, thanks to the intelligent driving of his chauffeurs,
+many of his opponents had gone to their graves or to the local
+hospitals, or otherwise abstained from voting.  And then something
+unlooked-for happened.  The rival candidate, Ali the Blest, arrived
+on the scene with his wives and womenfolk, who numbered, roughly,
+six hundred.  Ali had wasted little effort on election literature,
+but had been heard to remark that every vote given to his opponent
+meant another sack thrown into the Bosphorus.  The Young Turkish
+candidate, who had conformed to the Western custom of one wife and
+hardly any mistresses, stood by helplessly while his adversary's
+poll swelled to a triumphant majority.
+
+"Cristabel Columbus!" he exclaimed, invoking in some confusion the
+name of a distinguished pioneer; "who would have thought it?"
+
+"Strange," mused Ali, "that one who harangued so clamorously about
+the Secret Ballot should have overlooked the Veiled Vote."
+
+And, walking homeward with his constituents, he murmured in his
+beard an improvisation on the heretic poet of Persia:
+
+
+"One, rich in metaphors, his Cause contrives
+To urge with edged words, like Kabul knives;
+And I, who worst him in this sorry game,
+Was never rich in anything but--wives."
+
+
+
+JUDKIN OF THE PARCELS
+
+
+
+A figure in an indefinite tweed suit, carrying brown-paper parcels.
+That is what we met suddenly, at the bend of a muddy Dorsetshire
+lane, and the roan mare stared and obviously thought of a curtsey.
+The mare is road-shy, with intervals of stolidity, and there is no
+telling what she will pass and what she won't.  We call her Redford.
+That was my first meeting with Judkin, and the next time the
+circumstances were the same; the same muddy lane, the same rather
+apologetic figure in the tweed suit, the same--or very similar--
+parcels.  Only this time the roan looked straight in front of her.
+
+Whether I asked the groom or whether he advanced the information, I
+forget; but someway I gradually reconstructed the life-history of
+this trudger of the lanes.  It was much the same, no doubt, as that
+of many others who are from time to time pointed out to one as
+having been aforetime in crack cavalry regiments and noted
+performers in the saddle; men who have breathed into their lungs the
+wonder of the East, have romped through life as through a cotillon,
+have had a thrust perhaps at the Viceroy's Cup, and done fantastic
+horsefleshy things around the Gulf of Aden.  And then a golden
+stream has dried up, the sunlight has faded suddenly out of things,
+and the gods have nodded "Go."  And they have not gone.  They have
+turned instead to the muddy lanes and cheap villas and the marked-
+down ills of life, to watch pear trees growing and to encourage hens
+for their eggs.  And Judkin was even as these others; the wine had
+been suddenly spilt from his cup of life, and he had stayed to suck
+at the dregs which the wise throw away.  In the days of his scorn
+for most things he would have stared the roan mare and her turn-out
+out of all pretension to smartness, as he would have frozen a cheap
+claret behind its cork, or a plain woman behind her veil; and now he
+was walking stoically through the mud, in a tweed suit that would
+eventually go on to the gardener's boy, and would perhaps fit him.
+The dear gods, who know the end before the beginning, were perhaps
+growing a gardener's boy somewhere to fit the garments, and Judkin
+was only a caretaker, inhabiting a portion of them.  That is what I
+like to think, and I am probably wrong.  And Judkin, whose clothes
+had been to him once more than a religion, scarcely less sacred than
+a family quarrel, would carry those parcels back to his villa and to
+the wife who awaited him and them--a wife who may, for all we know
+to the contrary, have had a figure once, and perhaps has yet a heart
+of gold--of nine-carat gold, let us say at the least--but assuredly
+a soul of tape.  And he that has fetched and carried will explain
+how it has fared with him in his dealings, and if he has brought the
+wrong sort of sugar or thread he will wheedle away the displeasure
+from that leaden face as a pastrycook girl will drive bluebottles
+off a stale bun.  And that man has known what it was to coax the
+fret of a thoroughbred, to soothe its toss and sweat as it danced
+beneath him in the glee and chafe of its pulses and the glory of its
+thews.  He has been in the raw places of the earth, where the desert
+beasts have whimpered their unthinkable psalmody, and their eyes
+have shone back the reflex of the midnight stars--and he can immerse
+himself in the tending of an incubator.  It is horrible and wrong,
+and yet when I have met him in the lanes his face has worn a look of
+tedious cheerfulness that might pass for happiness.  Has Judkin of
+the Parcels found something in the lees of life that I have missed
+in going to and fro over many waters?  Is there more wisdom in his
+perverseness than in the madness of the wise?  The dear gods know.
+
+I don't think I saw Judkin more than three times all told, and
+always the lane was our point of contact; but as the roan mare was
+taking me to the station one heavy, cloud-smeared day, I passed a
+dull-looking villa that the groom, or instinct, told me was Judkin's
+home.  From beyond a hedge of ragged elder-bushes could be heard the
+thud, thud of a spade, with an occasional clink and pause, as if
+some one had picked out a stone and thrown it to a distance, and I
+knew that HE was doing nameless things to the roots of a pear tree.
+Near by him, I felt sure, would be lying a large and late vegetable
+marrow, and its largeness and lateness would be a theme of
+conversation at luncheon.  It would be suggested that it should
+grace the harvest thanksgiving service; the harvest having been so
+generally unsatisfactory, it would be unfair to let the farmers
+supply all the material for rejoicing.
+
+And while I was speeding townwards along the rails Judkin would be
+plodding his way to the vicarage bearing a vegetable marrow and a
+basketful of dahlias.  The basket to be returned.
+
+
+
+GABRIEL-ERNEST
+
+
+
+"There is a wild beast in your woods," said the artist Cunningham,
+as he was being driven to the station.  It was the only remark he
+had made during the drive, but as Van Cheele had talked incessantly
+his companion's silence had not been noticeable.
+
+"A stray fox or two and some resident weasels.  Nothing more
+formidable," said Van Cheele.  The artist said nothing.
+
+"What did you mean about a wild beast?" said Van Cheele later, when
+they were on the platform.
+
+"Nothing.  My imagination.  Here is the train," said Cunningham.
+
+That afternoon Van Cheele went for one of his frequent rambles
+through his woodland property.  He had a stuffed bittern in his
+study, and knew the names of quite a number of wild flowers, so his
+aunt had possibly some justification in describing him as a great
+naturalist.  At any rate, he was a great walker.  It was his custom
+to take mental notes of everything he saw during his walks, not so
+much for the purpose of assisting contemporary science as to provide
+topics for conversation afterwards.  When the bluebells began to
+show themselves in flower he made a point of informing every one of
+the fact; the season of the year might have warned his hearers of
+the likelihood of such an occurrence, but at least they felt that he
+was being absolutely frank with them.
+
+What Van Cheele saw on this particular afternoon was, however,
+something far removed from his ordinary range of experience.  On a
+shelf of smooth stone overhanging a deep pool in the hollow of an
+oak coppice a boy of about sixteen lay asprawl, drying his wet brown
+limbs luxuriously in the sun.  His wet hair, parted by a recent
+dive, lay close to his head, and his light-brown eyes, so light that
+there was an almost tigerish gleam in them, were turned towards Van
+Cheele with a certain lazy watchfulness.  It was an unexpected
+apparition, and Van Cheele found himself engaged in the novel
+process of thinking before he spoke.  Where on earth could this
+wild-looking boy hail from?  The miller's wife had lost a child some
+two months ago, supposed to have been swept away by the mill-race,
+but that had been a mere baby, not a half-grown lad.
+
+"What are you doing there?" he demanded.
+
+"Obviously, sunning myself," replied the boy.
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+"Here, in these woods."
+
+"You can't live in the woods," said Van Cheele.
+
+"They are very nice woods," said the boy, with a touch of patronage
+in his voice.
+
+"But where do you sleep at night?"
+
+"I don't sleep at night; that's my busiest time."
+
+Van Cheele began to have an irritated feeling that he was grappling
+with a problem that was eluding him.
+
+"What do you feed on?" he asked.
+
+"Flesh," said the boy, and he pronounced the word with slow relish,
+as though he were tasting it.
+
+"Flesh!  What Flesh?"
+
+"Since it interests you, rabbits, wild-fowl, hares, poultry, lambs
+in their season, children when I can get any; they're usually too
+well locked in at night, when I do most of my hunting.  It's quite
+two months since I tasted child-flesh."
+
+Ignoring the chaffing nature of the last remark Van Cheele tried to
+draw the boy on the subject of possible poaching operations.
+
+"You're talking rather through your hat when you speak of feeding on
+hares."  (Considering the nature of the boy's toilet the simile was
+hardly an apt one.)  "Our hillside hares aren't easily caught."
+
+"At night I hunt on four feet," was the somewhat cryptic response.
+
+"I suppose you mean that you hunt with a dog?" hazarded Van Cheele.
+
+The boy rolled slowly over on to his back, and laughed a weird low
+laugh, that was pleasantly like a chuckle and disagreeably like a
+snarl.
+
+"I don't fancy any dog would be very anxious for my company,
+especially at night."
+
+Van Cheele began to feel that there was something positively uncanny
+about the strange-eyed, strange-tongued youngster.
+
+"I can't have you staying in these woods," he declared
+authoritatively.
+
+"I fancy you'd rather have me here than in your house," said the
+boy.
+
+The prospect of this wild, nude animal in Van Cheele's primly
+ordered house was certainly an alarming one.
+
+"If you don't go.  I shall have to make you," said Van Cheele.
+
+The boy turned like a flash, plunged into the pool, and in a moment
+had flung his wet and glistening body half-way up the bank where Van
+Cheele was standing.  In an otter the movement would not have been
+remarkable; in a boy Van Cheele found it sufficiently startling.
+His foot slipped as he made an involuntarily backward movement, and
+he found himself almost prostrate on the slippery weed-grown bank,
+with those tigerish yellow eyes not very far from his own.  Almost
+instinctively he half raised his hand to his throat.  They boy
+laughed again, a laugh in which the snarl had nearly driven out the
+chuckle, and then, with another of his astonishing lightning
+movements, plunged out of view into a yielding tangle of weed and
+fern.
+
+"What an extraordinary wild animal!" said Van Cheele as he picked
+himself up.  And then he recalled Cunningham's remark "There is a
+wild beast in your woods."
+
+Walking slowly homeward, Van Cheele began to turn over in his mind
+various local occurrences which might be traceable to the existence
+of this astonishing young savage.
+
+Something had been thinning the game in the woods lately, poultry
+had been missing from the farms, hares were growing unaccountably
+scarcer, and complaints had reached him of lambs being carried off
+bodily from the hills.  Was it possible that this wild boy was
+really hunting the countryside in company with some clever poacher
+dogs?  He had spoken of hunting "four-footed" by night, but then,
+again, he had hinted strangely at no dog caring to come near him,
+"especially at night."  It was certainly puzzling.  And then, as Van
+Cheele ran his mind over the various depredations that had been
+committed during the last month or two, he came suddenly to a dead
+stop, alike in his walk and his speculations.  The child missing
+from the mill two months ago--the accepted theory was that it had
+tumbled into the mill-race and been swept away; but the mother had
+always declared she had heard a shriek on the hill side of the
+house, in the opposite direction from the water.  It was
+unthinkable, of course, but he wished that the boy had not made that
+uncanny remark about child-flesh eaten two months ago.  Such
+dreadful things should not be said even in fun.
+
+Van Cheele, contrary to his usual wont, did not feel disposed to be
+communicative about his discovery in the wood.  His position as a
+parish councillor and justice of the peace seemed somehow
+compromised by the fact that he was harbouring a personality of such
+doubtful repute on his property; there was even a possibility that a
+heavy bill of damages for raided lambs and poultry might be laid at
+his door.  At dinner that night he was quite unusually silent.
+
+"Where's your voice gone to?" said his aunt.  "One would think you
+had seen a wolf."
+
+Van Cheele, who was not familiar with the old saying, thought the
+remark rather foolish; if he HAD seen a wolf on his property his
+tongue would have been extraordinarily busy with the subject.
+
+At breakfast next morning Van Cheele was conscious that his feeling
+of uneasiness regarding yesterday's episode had not wholly
+disappeared, and he resolved to go by train to the neighbouring
+cathedral town, hunt up Cunningham, and learn from him what he had
+really seen that had prompted the remark about a wild beast in the
+woods.  With this resolution taken, his usual cheerfulness partially
+returned, and he hummed a bright little melody as he sauntered to
+the morning-room for his customary cigarette.  As he entered the
+room the melody made way abruptly for a pious invocation.
+Gracefully asprawl on the ottoman, in an attitude of almost
+exaggerated repose, was the boy of the woods.  He was drier than
+when Van Cheele had last seen him, but no other alteration was
+noticeable in his toilet.
+
+"How dare you come here?" asked Van Cheele furiously.
+
+"You told me I was not to stay in the woods," said the boy calmly.
+
+"But not to come here.  Supposing my aunt should see you!"
+
+And with a view to minimising that catastrophe, Van Cheele hastily
+obscured as much of his unwelcome guest as possible under the folds
+of a Morning Post.  At that moment his aunt entered the room.
+
+"This is a poor boy who has lost his way--and lost his memory.  He
+doesn't know who he is or where he comes from," explained Van Cheele
+desperately, glancing apprehensively at the waif's face to see
+whether he was going to add inconvenient candour to his other savage
+propensities.
+
+Miss Van Cheele was enormously interested.
+
+"Perhaps his underlinen is marked," she suggested.
+
+"He seems to have lost most of that, too," said Van Cheele, making
+frantic little grabs at the Morning Post to keep it in its place.
+
+A naked homeless child appealed to Miss Van Cheele as warmly as a
+stray kitten or derelict puppy would have done.
+
+"We must do all we can for him," she decided, and in a very short
+time a messenger, dispatched to the rectory, where a page-boy was
+kept, had returned with a suit of pantry clothes, and the necessary
+accessories of shirt, shoes, collar, etc.  Clothed, clean, and
+groomed, the boy lost none of his uncanniness in Van Cheele's eyes,
+but his aunt found him sweet.
+
+"We must call him something till we know who he really is," she
+said.  "Gabriel-Ernest, I think; those are nice suitable names."
+
+Van Cheele agreed, but he privately doubted whether they were being
+grafted on to a nice suitable child.  His misgivings were not
+diminished by the fact that his staid and elderly spaniel had bolted
+out of the house at the first incoming of the boy, and now
+obstinately remained shivering and yapping at the farther end of the
+orchard, while the canary, usually as vocally industrious as Van
+Cheele himself, had put itself on an allowance of frightened cheeps.
+More than ever he was resolved to consult Cunningham without loss of
+time.
+
+As he drove off to the station his aunt was arranging that Gabriel-
+Ernest should help her to entertain the infant members of her
+Sunday-school class at tea that afternoon.
+
+Cunningham was not at first disposed to be communicative.
+
+"My mother died of some brain trouble," he explained, "so you will
+understand why I am averse to dwelling on anything of an impossibly
+fantastic nature that I may see or think that I have seen."
+
+"But what DID you see?" persisted Van Cheele.
+
+"What I thought I saw was something so extraordinary that no really
+sane man could dignify it with the credit of having actually
+happened.  I was standing, the last evening I was with you, half-
+hidden in the hedgegrowth by the orchard gate, watching the dying
+glow of the sunset.  Suddenly I became aware of a naked boy, a
+bather from some neighbouring pool, I took him to be, who was
+standing out on the bare hillside also watching the sunset.  His
+pose was so suggestive of some wild faun of Pagan myth that I
+instantly wanted to engage him as a model, and in another moment I
+think I should have hailed him.  But just then the sun dipped out of
+view, and all the orange and pink slid out of the landscape, leaving
+it cold and grey.  And at the same moment an astounding thing
+happened--the boy vanished too!"
+
+"What! vanished away into nothing?" asked Van Cheele excitedly.
+
+"No; that is the dreadful part of it," answered the artist; "on the
+open hillside where the boy had been standing a second ago, stood a
+large wolf, blackish in colour, with gleaming fangs and cruel,
+yellow eyes.  You may think--"
+
+But Van Cheele did not stop for anything as futile as thought.
+Already he was tearing at top speed towards the station.  He
+dismissed the idea of a telegram.  "Gabriel-Ernest is a werewolf"
+was a hopelessly inadequate effort at conveying the situation, and
+his aunt would think it was a code message to which he had omitted
+to give her the key.  His one hope was that he might reach home
+before sundown.  The cab which he chartered at the other end of the
+railway journey bore him with what seemed exasperating slowness
+along the country roads, which were pink and mauve with the flush of
+the sinking sun.  His aunt was putting away some unfinished jams and
+cake when he arrived.
+
+"Where is Gabriel-Ernest?" he almost screamed.
+
+"He is taking the little Toop child home," said his aunt.  "It was
+getting so late, I thought it wasn't safe to let it go back alone.
+What a lovely sunset, isn't it?"
+
+But Van Cheele, although not oblivious of the glow in the western
+sky, did not stay to discuss its beauties.  At a speed for which he
+was scarcely geared he raced along the narrow lane that led to the
+home of the Toops.  On one side ran the swift current of the mill-
+stream, on the other rose the stretch of bare hillside.  A dwindling
+rim of red sun showed still on the skyline, and the next turning
+must bring him in view of the ill-assorted couple he was pursuing.
+Then the colour went suddenly out of things, and a grey light
+settled itself with a quick shiver over the landscape.  Van Cheele
+heard a shrill wail of fear, and stopped running.
+
+Nothing was ever seen again of the Toop child or Gabriel-Ernest, but
+the latter's discarded garments were found lying in the road so it
+was assumed that the child had fallen into the water, and that the
+boy had stripped and jumped in, in a vain endeavour to save it.  Van
+Cheele and some workmen who were near by at the time testified to
+having heard a child scream loudly just near the spot where the
+clothes were found.  Mrs. Toop, who had eleven other children, was
+decently resigned to her bereavement, but Miss Van Cheele sincerely
+mourned her lost foundling.  It was on her initiative that a
+memorial brass was put up in the parish church to "Gabriel-Ernest,
+an unknown boy, who bravely sacrificed his life for another."
+
+Van Cheele gave way to his aunt in most things, but he flatly
+refused to subscribe to the Gabriel-Ernest memorial.
+
+
+
+THE SAINT AND THE GOBLIN
+
+
+
+The little stone Saint occupied a retired niche in a side aisle of
+the old cathedral.  No one quite remembered who he had been, but
+that in a way was a guarantee of respectability.  At least so the
+Goblin said.  The Goblin was a very fine specimen of quaint stone
+carving, and lived up in the corbel on the wall opposite the niche
+of the little Saint.  He was connected with some of the best
+cathedral folk, such as the queer carvings in the choir stalls and
+chancel screen, and even the gargoyles high up on the roof.  All the
+fantastic beasts and manikins that sprawled and twisted in wood or
+stone or lead overhead in the arches or away down in the crypt were
+in some way akin to him; consequently he was a person of recognised
+importance in the cathedral world.
+
+The little stone Saint and the Goblin got on very well together,
+though they looked at most things from different points of view.
+The Saint was a philanthropist in an old fashioned way; he thought
+the world, as he saw it, was good, but might be improved.  In
+particular he pitied the church mice, who were miserably poor.  The
+Goblin, on the other hand, was of opinion that the world, as he knew
+it, was bad, but had better be let alone.  It was the function of
+the church mice to be poor.
+
+"All the same," said the Saint, "I feel very sorry for them."
+
+"Of course you do," said the Goblin; "it's YOUR function to feel
+sorry for them.  If they were to leave off being poor you couldn't
+fulfil your functions.  You'd be a sinecure."
+
+He rather hoped that the Saint would ask him what a sinecure meant,
+but the latter took refuge in a stony silence.  The Goblin might be
+right, but still, he thought, he would like to do something for the
+church mice before winter came on; they were so very poor.
+
+Whilst he was thinking the matter over he was startled by something
+falling between his feet with a hard metallic clatter.  It was a
+bright new thaler; one of the cathedral jackdaws, who collected such
+things, had flown in with it to a stone cornice just above his
+niche, and the banging of the sacristy door had startled him into
+dropping it.  Since the invention of gunpowder the family nerves
+were not what they had been.
+
+"What have you got there?" asked the Goblin.
+
+"A silver thaler," said the Saint.  "Really," he continued, "it is
+most fortunate; now I can do something for the church mice."
+
+"How will you manage it?" asked the Goblin.
+
+The Saint considered.
+
+"I will appear in a vision to the vergeress who sweeps the floors.
+I will tell her that she will find a silver thaler between my feet,
+and that she must take it and buy a measure of corn and put it on my
+shrine.  When she finds the money she will know that it was a true
+dream, and she will take care to follow my directions.  Then the
+mice will have food all the winter."
+
+"Of course YOU can do that," observed the Goblin.  "Now, I can only
+appear to people after they have had a heavy supper of indigestible
+things.  My opportunities with the vergeress would be limited.
+There is some advantage in being a saint after all."
+
+All this while the coin was lying at the Saint's feet.  It was clean
+and glittering and had the Elector's arms beautifully stamped upon
+it.  The Saint began to reflect that such an opportunity was too
+rare to be hastily disposed of.  Perhaps indiscriminate charity
+might be harmful to the church mice.  After all, it was their
+function to be poor; the Goblin had said so, and the Goblin was
+generally right.
+
+"I've been thinking," he said to that personage, "that perhaps it
+would be really better if I ordered a thaler's worth of candles to
+be placed on my shrine instead of the corn."
+
+He often wished, for the look of the thing, that people would
+sometimes burn candles at his shrine; but as they had forgotten who
+he was it was not considered a profitable speculation to pay him
+that attention.
+
+"Candles would be more orthodox," said the Goblin.
+
+"More orthodox, certainly," agreed the Saint, "and the mice could
+have the ends to eat; candle-ends are most fattening."
+
+The Goblin was too well bred to wink; besides, being a stone goblin,
+it was out of the question.
+
+* * *
+
+"Well, if it ain't there, sure enough!" said the vergeress next
+morning.  She took the shining coin down from the dusty niche and
+turned it over and over in her grimy hands.  Then she put it to her
+mouth and bit it.
+
+"She can't be going to eat it," thought the Saint, and fixed her
+with his stoniest stare.
+
+"Well," said the woman, in a somewhat shriller key, "who'd have
+thought it!  A saint, too!"
+
+Then she did an unaccountable thing.  She hunted an old piece of
+tape out of her pocket, and tied to crosswise, with a big loop,
+round the thaler, and hung it round the neck of the little Saint.
+
+Then she went away.
+
+"The only possible explanation," said the Goblin, "is that it's a
+bad one."
+
+* * *
+
+"What is that decoration your neighbour is wearing?" asked a wyvern
+that was wrought into the capital of an adjacent pillar.
+
+The Saint was ready to cry with mortification, only, being of stone,
+he couldn't.
+
+"It's a coin of--ahem!--fabulous value," replied the Goblin
+tactfully.
+
+And the news went round the Cathedral that the shrine of the little
+stone Saint had been enriched by a priceless offering.
+
+"After all, it's something to have the conscience of a goblin," said
+the Saint to himself.
+
+The church mice were as poor as ever.  But that was their function.
+
+
+
+THE SOUL OF LAPLOSHKA
+
+
+
+Laploshka was one of the meanest men I have ever met, and quite one
+of the most entertaining.  He said horrid things about other people
+in such a charming way that one forgave him for the equally horrid
+things he said about oneself behind one's back.  Hating anything in
+the way of ill-natured gossip ourselves, we are always grateful to
+those who do it for us and do it well.  And Laploshka did it really
+well.
+
+Naturally Laploshka had a large circle of acquaintances, and as he
+exercised some care in their selection it followed that an
+appreciable proportion were men whose bank balances enabled them to
+acquiesce indulgently in his rather one-sided views on hospitality.
+Thus, although possessed of only moderate means, he was able to live
+comfortably within his income, and still more comfortably within
+those of various tolerantly disposed associates.
+
+But towards the poor or to those of the same limited resources as
+himself his attitude was one of watchful anxiety; he seemed to be
+haunted by a besetting fear lest some fraction of a shilling or
+franc, or whatever the prevailing coinage might be, should be
+diverted from his pocket or service into that of a hard-up
+companion.  A two-franc cigar would be cheerfully offered to a
+wealthy patron, on the principle of doing evil that good may come,
+but I have known him indulge in agonies of perjury rather than admit
+the incriminating possession of a copper coin when change was needed
+to tip a waiter.  The coin would have been duly returned at the
+earliest opportunity--he would have taken means to insure against
+forgetfulness on the part of the borrower--but accidents might
+happen, and even the temporary estrangement from his penny or sou
+was a calamity to be avoided.
+
+The knowledge of this amiable weakness offered a perpetual
+temptation to play upon Laploshka's fears of involuntary generosity.
+To offer him a lift in a cab and pretend not to have enough money to
+pay the fair, to fluster him with a request for a sixpence when his
+hand was full of silver just received in change, these were a few of
+the petty torments that ingenuity prompted as occasion afforded.  To
+do justice to Laploshka's resourcefulness it must be admitted that
+he always emerged somehow or other from the most embarrassing
+dilemma without in any way compromising his reputation for saying
+"No."  But the gods send opportunities at some time to most men, and
+mine came one evening when Laploshka and I were supping together in
+a cheap boulevard restaurant.  (Except when he was the bidden guest
+of some one with an irreproachable income, Laploshka was wont to
+curb his appetite for high living; on such fortunate occasions he
+let it go on an easy snaffle.)  At the conclusion of the meal a
+somewhat urgent message called me away, and without heeding my
+companion's agitated protest, I called back cruelly, "Pay my share;
+I'll settle with you to-morrow."  Early on the morrow Laploshka
+hunted me down by instinct as I walked along a side street that I
+hardly ever frequented.  He had the air of a man who had not slept.
+
+"You owe me two francs from last night," was his breathless
+greeting.
+
+I spoke evasively of the situation in Portugal, where more trouble
+seemed brewing.  But Laploshka listened with the abstraction of the
+deaf adder, and quickly returned to the subject of the two francs.
+
+"I'm afraid I must owe it to you," I said lightly and brutally.  "I
+haven't a sou in the world," and I added mendaciously, "I'm going
+away for six months or perhaps longer."
+
+Laploshka said nothing, but his eyes bulged a little and his cheeks
+took on the mottled hues of an ethnographical map of the Balkan
+Peninsula.  That same day, at sundown, he died.  "Failure of the
+heart's action," was the doctor's verdict; but I, who knew better,
+knew that he died of grief.
+
+There arose the problem of what to do with his two francs.  To have
+killed Laploshka was one thing; to have kept his beloved money would
+have argued a callousness of feeling of which I am not capable.  The
+ordinary solution, of giving it to the poor, would by no means fit
+the present situation, for nothing would have distressed the dead
+man more than such a misuse of his property.  On the other hand, the
+bestowal of two francs on the rich was an operation which called for
+some tact.  An easy way out of the difficulty seemed, however, to
+present itself the following Sunday, as I was wedged into the
+cosmopolitan crowd which filled the side-aisle of one of the most
+popular Paris churches.  A collecting-bag, for "the poor of Monsieur
+le Cure," was buffeting its tortuous way across the seemingly
+impenetrable human sea, and a German in front of me, who evidently
+did not wish his appreciation of the magnificent music to be marred
+by a suggestion of payment, made audible criticisms to his companion
+on the claims of the said charity.
+
+"They do not want money," he said; "they have too much money.  They
+have no poor.  They are all pampered."
+
+If that were really the case my way seemed clear.  I dropped
+Laploshka's two francs into the bag with a murmured blessing on the
+rich of Monsieur le Cure.
+
+Some three weeks later chance had taken me to Vienna, and I sat one
+evening regaling myself in a humble but excellent little Gasthaus up
+in the Wahringer quarter.  The appointments were primitive, but the
+Schnitzel, the beer, and the cheese could not have been improved on.
+Good cheer brought good custom, and with the exception of one small
+table near the door every place was occupied.  Half-way through my
+meal I happened to glance in the direction of that empty seat, and
+saw that it was no longer empty.  Poring over the bill of fare with
+the absorbed scrutiny of one who seeks the cheapest among the cheap
+was Laploshka.  Once he looked across at me, with a comprehensive
+glance at my repast, as though to say, "It is my two francs you are
+eating," and then looked swiftly away.  Evidently the poor of
+Monsieur le Cure had been genuine poor.  The Schnitzel turned to
+leather in my mouth, the beer seemed tepid; I left the Emmenthaler
+untasted.  My one idea was to get away from the room, away from the
+table where THAT was seated; and as I fled I felt Laploshka's
+reproachful eyes watching the amount that I gave to the piccolo--out
+of his two francs.  I lunched next day at an expensive restaurant
+which I felt sure that the living Laploshka would never have entered
+on his own account, and I hoped that the dead Laploshka would
+observe the same barriers.  I was not mistaken, but as I came out I
+found him miserably studying the bill of fare stuck up on the
+portals.  Then he slowly made his way over to a milk-hall.  For the
+first time in my experience I missed the charm and gaiety of Vienna
+life.
+
+After that, in Paris or London or wherever I happened to be, I
+continued to see a good deal of Laploshka.  If I had a seat in a box
+at a theatre I was always conscious of his eyes furtively watching
+me from the dim recesses of the gallery.  As I turned into my club
+on a rainy afternoon I would see him taking inadequate shelter in a
+doorway opposite.  Even if I indulged in the modest luxury of a
+penny chair in the Park he generally confronted me from one of the
+free benches, never staring at me, but always elaborately conscious
+of my presence.  My friends began to comment on my changed looks,
+and advised me to leave off heaps of things.  I should have liked to
+have left off Laploshka.
+
+On a certain Sunday--it was probably Easter, for the crush was worse
+than ever--I was again wedged into the crowd listening to the music
+in the fashionable Paris church, and again the collection-bag was
+buffeting its way across the human sea.  An English lady behind me
+was making ineffectual efforts to convey a coin into the still
+distant bag, so I took the money at her request and helped it
+forward to its destination.  It was a two-franc piece.  A swift
+inspiration came to me, and I merely dropped my own sou into the bag
+and slid the silver coin into my pocket.  I had withdrawn
+Laploshka's two francs from the poor, who should never have had the
+legacy.  As I backed away from the crowd I heard a woman's voice
+say, "I don't believe he put my money in the bag.  There are swarms
+of people in Paris like that!"  But my mind was lighter that it had
+been for a long time.
+
+The delicate mission of bestowing the retrieved sum on the deserving
+rich still confronted me.  Again I trusted to the inspiration of
+accident, and again fortune favoured me.  A shower drove me, two
+days later, into one of the historic churches on the left bank of
+the Seine, and there I found, peering at the old wood-carvings, the
+Baron R., one of the wealthiest and most shabbily dressed men in
+Paris.  It was now or never.  Putting a strong American inflection
+into the French which I usually talked with an unmistakable British
+accent, I catechised the Baron as to the date of the church's
+building, its dimensions, and other details which an American
+tourist would be certain to want to know.  Having acquired such
+information as the Baron was able to impart on short notice, I
+solemnly placed the two-franc piece in his hand, with the hearty
+assurance that it was "pour vous," and turned to go.  The Baron was
+slightly taken aback, but accepted the situation with a good grace.
+Walking over to a small box fixed in the wall, he dropped
+Laploshka's two francs into the slot.  Over the box was the
+inscription, "Pour les pauvres de M. le Cure."
+
+That evening, at the crowded corner by the Cafe de la Paix, I caught
+a fleeting glimpse of Laploshka.  He smiled, slightly raised his
+hat, and vanished.  I never saw him again.  After all, the money had
+been GIVEN to the deserving rich, and the soul of Laploshka was at
+peace.
+
+
+
+THE BAG
+
+
+
+"The Major is coming in to tea," said Mrs. Hoopington to her niece.
+"He's just gone round to the stables with his horse.  Be as bright
+and lively as you can; the poor man's got a fit of the glooms."
+
+Major Pallaby was a victim of circumstances, over which he had no
+control, and of his temper, over which he had very little.  He had
+taken on the Mastership of the Pexdale Hounds in succession to a
+highly popular man who had fallen foul of his committee, and the
+Major found himself confronted with the overt hostility of at least
+half the hunt, while his lack of tact and amiability had done much
+to alienate the remainder.  Hence subscriptions were beginning to
+fall off, foxes grew provokingly scarcer, and wire obtruded itself
+with increasing frequency.  The Major could plead reasonable excuse
+for his fit of the glooms.
+
+In ranging herself as a partisan on the side of Major Pallaby Mrs.
+Hoopington had been largely influenced by the fact that she had made
+up her mind to marry him at an early date.  Against his notorious
+bad temper she set his three thousand a year, and his prospective
+succession to a baronetcy gave a casting vote in his favour.  The
+Major's plans on the subject of matrimony were not at present in
+such an advanced stage as Mrs. Hoopington's, but he was beginning to
+find his way over to Hoopington Hall with a frequency that was
+already being commented on.
+
+"He had a wretchedly thin field out again yesterday," said Mrs.
+Hoopington.  "Why you didn't bring one or two hunting men down with
+you, instead of that stupid Russian boy, I can't think."
+
+"Vladimir isn't stupid," protested her niece; "he's one of the most
+amusing boys I ever met.  Just compare him for a moment with some of
+your heavy hunting men--"
+
+"Anyhow, my dear Norah, he can't ride."
+
+"Russians never can; but he shoots."
+
+"Yes; and what does he shoot?  Yesterday he brought home a
+woodpecker in his game-bag."
+
+"But he'd shot three pheasants and some rabbits as well."
+
+"That's no excuse for including a woodpecker in his game-bag."
+
+"Foreigners go in for mixed bags more than we do.  A Grand Duke pots
+a vulture just as seriously as we should stalk a bustard.  Anyhow,
+I've explained to Vladimir that certain birds are beneath his
+dignity as a sportsman.  And as he's only nineteen, of course, his
+dignity is a sure thing to appeal to."
+
+Mrs. Hoopington sniffed.  Most people with whom Vladimir came in
+contact found his high spirits infectious, but his present hostess
+was guaranteed immune against infection of that sort.
+
+"I hear him coming in now," she observed.  "I shall go and get ready
+for tea.  We're going to have it here in the hall.  Entertain the
+Major if he comes in before I'm down, and, above all, be bright."
+
+Norah was dependent on her aunt's good graces for many little things
+that made life worth living, and she was conscious of a feeling of
+discomfiture because the Russian youth whom she had brought down as
+a welcome element of change in the country-house routine was not
+making a good impression.  That young gentleman, however, was
+supremely unconscious of any shortcomings, and burst into the hall,
+tired, and less sprucely groomed than usual, but distinctly radiant.
+His game-bag looked comfortably full.
+
+"Guess what I have shot," he demanded.
+
+"Pheasants, woodpigeons, rabbits," hazarded Norah.
+
+"No; a large beast; I don't know what you call it in English.
+Brown, with a darkish tail."  Norah changed colour.
+
+"Does it live in a tree and eat nuts?" she asked, hoping that the
+use of the adjective "large" might be an exaggeration.
+
+Vladimir laughed.
+
+"Oh no; not a biyelka."
+
+"Does it swim and eat fish?" asked Norah, with a fervent prayer in
+her heart that it might turn out to be an otter.
+
+"No," said Vladimir, busy with the straps of his game-bag; "it lives
+in the woods, and eats rabbits and chickens."
+
+Norah sat down suddenly, and hid her face in her hands.
+
+"Merciful Heaven!" she wailed; "he's shot a fox!"
+
+Vladimir looked up at her in consternation.  In a torrent of
+agitated words she tried to explain the horror of the situation.
+The boy understood nothing, but was thoroughly alarmed.
+
+"Hide it, hide it!" said Norah frantically, pointing to the still
+unopened bag.  "My aunt and the Major will be here in a moment.
+Throw it on the top of that chest; they won't see it there."
+
+Vladimir swung the bag with fair aim; but the strap caught in its
+flight on the outstanding point of an antler fixed in the wall, and
+the bag, with its terrible burden, remained suspended just above the
+alcove where tea would presently be laid.  At that moment Mrs.
+Hoopington and the Major entered the hall.
+
+"The Major is going to draw our covers to-morrow," announced the
+lady, with a certain heavy satisfaction.  "Smithers is confident
+that we'll be able to show him some sport; he swears he's seen a fox
+in the nut copse three times this week."
+
+"I'm sure I hope so; I hope so," said the Major moodily.  "I must
+break this sequence of blank days.  One hears so often that a fox
+has settled down as a tenant for life in certain covers, and then
+when you go to turn him out there isn't a trace of him.  I'm certain
+a fox was shot or trapped in Lady Widden's woods the very day before
+we drew them."
+
+"Major, if any one tried that game on in my woods they'd get short
+shrift," said Mrs. Hoopington.
+
+Norah found her way mechanically to the tea-table and made her
+fingers frantically busy in rearranging the parsley round the
+sandwich dish.  On one side of her loomed the morose countenance of
+the Major, on the other she was conscious of the scared, miserable
+eyes of Vladimir.  And above it all hung THAT.  She dared not raise
+her eyes above the level of the tea-table, and she almost expected
+to see a spot of accusing vulpine blood drip down and stain the
+whiteness of the cloth.  Her aunt's manner signalled to her the
+repeated message to "be bright"; for the present she was fully
+occupied in keeping her teeth from chattering.
+
+"What did you shoot to-day?" asked Mrs. Hoopington suddenly of the
+unusually silent Vladimir.
+
+"Nothing--nothing worth speaking of," said the boy.
+
+Norah's heart, which had stood still for a space, made up for lost
+time with a most disturbing bound.
+
+"I wish you'd find something that was worth speaking about," said
+the hostess; "every one seems to have lost their tongues."
+
+"When did Smithers last see that fox?" said the Major.
+
+"Yesterday morning; a fine dog-fox, with a dark brush," confided
+Mrs. Hoopington.
+
+"Aha, we'll have a good gallop after that brush to-morrow," said the
+Major, with a transient gleam of good humour.  And then gloomy
+silence settled again round the teatable, a silence broken only by
+despondent munchings and the occasional feverish rattle of a
+teaspoon in its saucer.  A diversion was at last afforded by Mrs.
+Hoopington's fox-terrier, which had jumped on to a vacant chair, the
+better to survey the delicacies of the table, and was now sniffing
+in an upward direction at something apparently more interesting than
+cold tea-cake.
+
+"What is exciting him?" asked his mistress, as the dog suddenly
+broke into short angry barks, with a running accompaniment of
+tremulous whines.
+
+"Why," she continued, "it's your gamebag, Vladimir!  What HAVE you
+got in it?"
+
+"By Gad," said the Major, who was now standing up; "there's a pretty
+warm scent!"
+
+And then a simultaneous idea flashed on himself and Mrs. Hoopington.
+Their faces flushed to distinct but harmonious tones of purple, and
+with one accusing voice they screamed, "You've shot the fox!"
+
+Norah tried hastily to palliate Vladimir's misdeed in their eyes,
+but it is doubtful whether they heard her.  The Major's fury clothed
+and reclothed itself in words as frantically as a woman up in town
+for one day's shopping tries on a succession of garments.  He
+reviled and railed at fate and the general scheme of things, he
+pitied himself with a strong, deep pity too poignent for tears, he
+condemned every one with whom he had ever come in contact to endless
+and abnormal punishments.  In fact, he conveyed the impression that
+if a destroying angel had been lent to him for a week it would have
+had very little time for private study.  In the lulls of his outcry
+could be heard the querulous monotone of Mrs. Hoopington and the
+sharp staccato barking of the fox-terrier.  Vladimir, who did not
+understand a tithe of what was being said, sat fondling a cigarette
+and repeating under his breath from time to time a vigorous English
+adjective which he had long ago taken affectionately into his
+vocabulary.  His mind strayed back to the youth in the old Russian
+folk-tale who shot an enchanted bird with dramatic results.
+Meanwhile, the Major, roaming round the hall like an imprisoned
+cyclone, had caught sight of and joyfully pounced on the telephone
+apparatus, and lost no time in ringing up the hunt secretary and
+announcing his resignation of the Mastership.  A servant had by this
+time brought his horse round to the door, and in a few seconds Mrs.
+Hoopington's shrill monotone had the field to itself.  But after the
+Major's display her best efforts at vocal violence missed their full
+effect; it was as though one had come straight out from a Wagner
+opera into a rather tame thunderstorm.  Realising, perhaps, that her
+tirades were something of an anticlimax, Mrs. Hoopington broke
+suddenly into some rather necessary tears and marched out of the
+room, leaving behind her a silence almost as terrible as the turmoil
+which had preceded it.
+
+"What shall I do with--THAT?" asked Vladimir at last.
+
+"Bury it," said Norah.
+
+"Just plain burial?" said Vladimir, rather relieved.  He had almost
+expected that some of the local clergy would have insisted on being
+present, or that a salute might have to be fired over the grave.
+
+And thus it came to pass that in the dusk of a November evening the
+Russian boy, murmuring a few of the prayers of his Church for luck,
+gave hasty but decent burial to a large polecat under the lilac
+trees at Hoopington.
+
+
+
+THE STRATEGIST
+
+
+
+Mrs. Jallatt's young people's parties were severely exclusive; it
+came cheaper that way, because you could ask fewer to them.  Mrs.
+Jallatt didn't study cheapness, but somehow she generally attained
+it.
+
+"There'll be about ten girls," speculated Rollo, as he drove to the
+function, "and I suppose four fellows, unless the Wrotsleys bring
+their cousin, which Heaven forbid.  That would mean Jack and me
+against three of them."
+
+Rollo and the Wrotsley brethren had maintained an undying feud
+almost from nursery days.  They only met now and then in the
+holidays, and the meeting was usually tragic for whichever happened
+to have the fewest backers on hand.  Rollo was counting to-night on
+the presence of a devoted and muscular partisan to hold an even
+balance.  As he arrived he heard his prospective champion's sister
+apologising to the hostess for the unavoidable absence of her
+brother; a moment later he noted that the Wrotsleys HAD brought
+their cousin.
+
+Two against three would have been exciting and possibly unpleasant;
+one against three promised to be about as amusing as a visit to the
+dentist.  Rollo ordered his carriage for as early as was decently
+possible, and faced the company with a smile that he imagined the
+better sort of aristocrat would have worn when mounting to the
+guillotine.
+
+"So glad you were able to come," said the elder Wrotsley heartily.
+
+"Now, you children will like to play games, I suppose," said Mrs.
+Jallatt, by way of giving things a start, and as they were too well-
+bred to contradict her there only remained the question of what they
+were to play at.
+
+"I know of a good game," said the elder Wrotsley innocently.  "The
+fellows leave the room and think of a word; then they come back
+again, and the girls have to find out what the word is."
+
+Rollo knew the game.  He would have suggested it himself if his
+faction had been in the majority.
+
+"It doesn't promise to be very exciting," sniffed the superior
+Dolores Sneep as the boys filed out of the room.  Rollo thought
+differently.  He trusted to Providence that Wrotsley had nothing
+worse than knotted handkerchiefs at his disposal.
+
+The word-choosers locked themselves in the library to ensure that
+their deliberations should not be interrupted.  Providence turned
+out to be not even decently neutral; on a rack on the library wall
+were a dog-whip and a whalebone riding-switch.  Rollo thought it
+criminal negligence to leave such weapons of precision lying about.
+He was given a choice of evils, and chose the dog-whip; the next
+minute or so he spent in wondering how he could have made such a
+stupid selection.  Then they went back to the languidly expectant
+females.
+
+"The word's 'camel,'" announced the Wrotsley cousin blunderingly.
+
+"You stupid!" screamed the girls, "we've got to GUESS the word.  Now
+you'll have to go back and think of another."
+
+"Not for worlds," said Rollo; "I mean, the word isn't really camel;
+we were rotting.  Pretend it's dromedary!" he whispered to the
+others.
+
+"I heard them say 'dromedary'!  I heard them.  I don't care what you
+say; I heard them," squealed the odious Dolores.  "With ears as long
+as hers one would hear anything," thought Rollo savagely.
+
+"We shall have to go back, I suppose," said the elder Wrotsley
+resignedly.
+
+The conclave locked itself once more into the library.  "Look here,
+I'm not going through that dog-whip business again," protested
+Rollo.
+
+"Certainly not, dear," said the elder Wrotsley; "we'll try the
+whalebone switch this time, and you'll know which hurts most.  It's
+only by personal experience that one finds out these things."
+
+It was swiftly borne in upon Rollo that his earlier selection of the
+dog-whip had been a really sound one.  The conclave gave his under-
+lip time to steady itself while it debated the choice of the
+necessary word.  "Mustang" was no good, as half the girls wouldn't
+know what it meant; finally "quagga" was pitched on.
+
+"You must come and sit down over here," chorused the investigating
+committee on their return; but Rollo was obdurate in insisting that
+the questioned person always stood up.  On the whole, it was a
+relief when the game was ended and supper was announced.
+
+Mrs. Jallatt did not stint her young guests, but the more expensive
+delicacies of her supper-table were never unnecessarily duplicated,
+and it was usually good policy to take what you wanted while it was
+still there.  On this occasion she had provided sixteen peaches to
+"go round" among fourteen children; it was really not her fault that
+the two Wrotsleys and their cousin, foreseeing the long foodless
+drive home, had each quietly pocketed an extra peach, but it was
+distinctly trying for Dolores and the fat and good-natured Agnes
+Blaik to be left with one peach between them.
+
+"I suppose we had better halve it," said Dolores sourly.
+
+But Agnes was fat first and good-natured afterwards; those were her
+guiding principles in life.  She was profuse in her sympathy for
+Dolores, but she hastily devoured the peach, explaining that it
+would spoil it to divide it; the juice ran out so.
+
+"Now what would you all like to do?" demanded Mrs. Jallatt by way of
+diversion.  "The professional conjurer whom I had engaged has failed
+me at the last moment.  Can any of you recite?"
+
+There were symptoms of a general panic.  Dolores was known to recite
+"Locksley Hall" on the least provocation.  There had been occasions
+when her opening line, "Comrades, leave me here a little," had been
+taken as a literal injunction by a large section of her hearers.
+There was a murmur of relief when Rollo hastily declared that he
+could do a few conjuring tricks.  He had never done one in his life,
+but those two visits to the library had goaded him to unusual
+recklessness.
+
+"You've seen conjuring chaps take coins and cards out of people," he
+announced; "well, I'm going to take more interesting things out of
+some of you.  Mice, for instance."
+
+"Not mice!"
+
+A shrill protest rose, as he had foreseen, from the majority of his
+audience.
+
+"Well, fruit, them."
+
+The amended proposal was received with approval.  Agnes positively
+beamed.
+
+Without more ado Rollo made straight for his trio of enemies,
+plunged his hand successively into their breast-pockets, and
+produced three peaches.  There was no applause, but no amount of
+hand-clapping would have given the performer as much pleasure as the
+silence which greeted his coup.
+
+"Of course, we were in the know," said the Wrotsley cousin lamely.
+
+"That's done it," chuckled Rollo to himself.
+
+"If they HAD been confederates they would have sworn they knew
+nothing about it," said Dolores, with piercing conviction.
+
+"Do you know any more tricks?" asked Mrs. Jallatt hurriedly.
+
+Rollo did not.  He hinted that he might have changed the three
+peaches into something else, but Agnes had already converted one
+into girl-food, so nothing more could be done in that direction.
+
+"I know a game," said the elder Wrotsley heavily, "where the fellows
+go out of the room, and think of some character in history; then
+they come back and act him, and the girls have to guess who it's
+meant for."
+
+"I'm afraid I must be going," said Rollo to his hostess.
+
+"Your carriage won't be here for another twenty minutes," said Mrs.
+Jallatt.
+
+"It's such a fine evening I think I'll walk and meet it."
+
+"It's raining rather steadily at present.  You've just time to play
+that historical game."
+
+"We haven't heard Dolores recite," said Rollo desperately; as soon
+as he had said it he realised his mistake.  Confronted with the
+alternative of "Locksley Hall," public opinion declared unanimously
+for the history game.
+
+Rollo played his last card.  In an undertone meant apparently for
+the Wrotsley boy, but carefully pitched to reach Agnes, he observed
+-
+
+"All right, old man; we'll go and finish those chocolates we left in
+the library."
+
+"I think it's only fair that the girls should take their turn in
+going out," exclaimed Agnes briskly.  She was great on fairness.
+
+"Nonsense," said the others; "there are too many of us."
+
+"Well, four of us can go.  I'll be one of them."
+
+And Agnes darted off towards the library, followed by three less
+eager damsels.
+
+Rollo sank into a chair and smiled ever so faintly at the Wrotsleys,
+just a momentary baring of the teeth; an otter, escaping from the
+fangs of the hounds into the safety of a deep pool, might have given
+a similar demonstration of feelings.
+
+From the library came the sound of moving furniture.  Agnes was
+leaving nothing unturned in her quest for the mythical chocolates.
+And then came a more blessed sound, wheels crunching wet gravel.
+
+"It has been a most enjoyable evening," said Rollo to his hostess.
+
+
+
+CROSS CURRENTS
+
+
+
+Vanessa Pennington had a husband who was poor, with few extenuating
+circumstances, and an admirer who, though comfortably rich, was
+cumbered with a sense of honour.  His wealth made him welcome in
+Vanessa's eyes, but his code of what was right impelled him to go
+away and forget her, or at the most to think of her in the intervals
+of doing a great many other things.  And although Alaric Clyde loved
+Vanessa, and thought he should always go on loving her, he gradually
+and unconsciously allowed himself to be wooed and won by a more
+alluring mistress; he fancied that his continued shunning of the
+haunts of men was a self-imposed exile, but his heart was caught in
+the spell of the Wilderness, and the Wilderness was kind and
+beautiful to him.  When one is young and strong and unfettered the
+wild earth can be very kind and very beautiful.  Witness the legion
+of men who were once young and unfettered and now eat out their
+souls in dustbins, because, having erstwhile known and loved the
+Wilderness, they broke from her thrall and turned aside into beaten
+paths.
+
+In the high waste places of the world Clyde roamed and hunted and
+dreamed, death-dealing and gracious as some god of Hellas, moving
+with his horses and servants and four-footed camp followers from one
+dwelling ground to another, a welcome guest among wild primitive
+village folk and nomads, a friend and slayer of the fleet, shy
+beasts around him.  By the shores of misty upland lakes he shot the
+wild fowl that had winged their way to him across half the old
+world; beyond Bokhara he watched the wild Aryan horsemen at their
+gambols; watched, too, in some dim-lit tea-house one of those
+beautiful uncouth dances that one can never wholly forget; or,
+making a wide cast down to the valley of the Tigris, swam and rolled
+in its snow-cooled racing waters.  Vanessa, meanwhile, in a
+Bayswater back street, was making out the weekly laundry list,
+attending bargain sales, and, in her more adventurous moments,
+trying new ways of cooking whiting.  Occasionally she went to bridge
+parties, where, if the play was not illuminating, at least one
+learned a great deal about the private life of some of the Royal and
+Imperial Houses.  Vanessa, in a way, was glad that Clyde had done
+the proper thing.  She had a strong natural bias towards
+respectability, though she would have preferred to have been
+respectable in smarter surroundings, where her example would have
+done more good.  To be beyond reproach was one thing, but it would
+have been nicer to have been nearer to the Park.
+
+And then of a sudden her regard for respectability and Clyde's sense
+of what was right were thrown on the scrap-heap of unnecessary
+things.  They had been useful and highly important in their time,
+but the death of Vanessa's husband made them of no immediate moment.
+
+The news of the altered condition of things followed Clyde with
+leisurely persistence from one place of call to another, and at last
+ran him to a standstill somewhere in the Orenburg Steppe.  He would
+have found it exceedingly difficult to analyse his feelings on
+receipt of the tidings.  The Fates had unexpectedly (and perhaps
+just a little officiously) removed an obstacle from his path.  He
+supposed he was overjoyed, but he missed the feeling of elation
+which he had experienced some four months ago when he had bagged a
+snow-leopard with a lucky shot after a day's fruitless stalking.  Of
+course he would go back and ask Vanessa to marry him, but he was
+determined on enforcing a condition; on no account would he desert
+his newer love.  Vanessa would have to agree to come out into the
+Wilderness with him.
+
+The lady hailed the return of her lover with even more relief than
+had been occasioned by his departure.  The death of John Pennington
+had left his widow in circumstances which were more straitened than
+ever, and the Park had receded even from her notepaper, where it had
+long been retained as a courtesy title on the principle that
+addresses are given to us to conceal our whereabouts.  Certainly she
+was more independent now than heretofore, but independence, which
+means so much to many women, was of little account to Vanessa, who
+came under the heading of the mere female.  She made little ado
+about accepting Clyde's condition, and announced herself ready to
+follow him to the end of the world; as the world was round she
+nourished a complacent idea that in the ordinary course of things
+one would find oneself in the neighbourhood of Hyde Park Corner
+sooner or later no matter how far afield one wandered.
+
+East of Budapest her complacency began to filter away, and when she
+saw her husband treating the Black Sea with a familiarity which she
+had never been able to assume towards the English Channel,
+misgivings began to crowd in upon her.  Adventures which would have
+presented an amusing and enticing aspect to a better-bred woman
+aroused in Vanessa only the twin sensations of fright and
+discomfort.  Flies bit her, and she was persuaded that it was only
+sheer boredom that prevented camels from doing the same.  Clyde did
+his best, and a very good best it was, to infuse something of the
+banquet into their prolonged desert picnics, but even snow-cooled
+Heidsieck lost its flavour when you were convinced that the dusky
+cupbearer who served it with such reverent elegance was only waiting
+a convenient opportunity to cut your throat.  It was useless for
+Clyde to give Yussuf a character for devotion such as is rarely
+found in any Western servant.  Vanessa was well enough educated to
+know that all dusky-skinned people take human life as unconcernedly
+as Bayswater folk take singing lessons.
+
+And with a growing irritation and querulousness on her part came a
+further disenchantment, born of the inability of husband and wife to
+find a common ground of interest.  The habits and migrations of the
+sand grouse, the folklore and customs of Tartars and Turkomans, the
+points of a Cossack pony--these were matter which evoked only a
+bored indifference in Vanessa.  On the other hand, Clyde was not
+thrilled on being informed that the Queen of Spain detested mauve,
+or that a certain Royal duchess, for whose tastes he was never
+likely to be called on to cater, nursed a violent but perfectly
+respectable passion for beef olives.
+
+Vanessa began to arrive at the conclusion that a husband who added a
+roving disposition to a settled income was a mixed blessing.  It was
+one thing to go to the end of the world; it was quite another thing
+to make oneself at home there.  Even respectability seemed to lose
+some of its virtue when one practised it in a tent.
+
+Bored and disillusioned with the drift of her new life, Vanessa was
+undisguisedly glad when distraction offered itself in the person of
+Mr. Dobrinton, a chance acquaintance whom they had first run against
+in the primitive hostelry of a benighted Caucasian town.  Dobrinton
+was elaborately British, in deference perhaps to the memory of his
+mother, who was said to have derived part of her origin from an
+English governess who had come to Lemberg a long way back in the
+last century.  If you had called him Dobrinski when off his guard he
+would probably have responded readily enough; holding, no doubt,
+that the end crowns all, he had taken a slight liberty with the
+family patronymic.  To look at, Mr. Dobrinton was not a very
+attractive specimen of masculine humanity, but in Vanessa's eyes he
+was a link with that civilisation which Clyde seemed so ready to
+ignore and forgo.  He could sing "Yip-I-Addy" and spoke of several
+duchesses as if he knew them--in his more inspired moments almost as
+if they knew him.  He even pointed out blemishes in the cuisine or
+cellar departments of some of the more august London restaurants, a
+species of Higher Criticism which was listened to by Vanessa in awe-
+stricken admiration.  And, above all, he sympathised, at first
+discreetly, afterwards with more latitude, with her fretful
+discontent at Clyde's nomadic instincts.  Business connected with
+oil-wells had brought Dobrinton to the neighbourhood of Baku; the
+pleasure of appealing to an appreciative female audience induced him
+to deflect his return journey so as to coincide a good deal with his
+new aquaintances' line of march.  And while Clyde trafficked with
+Persian horse-dealers or hunted the wild grey pigs in their lairs
+and added to his notes on Central Asian game-fowl, Dobrinton and the
+lady discussed the ethics of desert respectability from points of
+view that showed a daily tendency to converge.  And one evening
+Clyde dined alone, reading between the courses a long letter from
+Vanessa, justifying her action in flitting to more civilised lands
+with a more congenial companion.
+
+It was distinctly evil luck for Vanessa, who really was thoroughly
+respectable at heart, that she and her lover should run into the
+hands of Kurdish brigands on the first day of their flight.  To be
+mewed up in a squalid Kurdish village in close companionship with a
+man who was only your husband by adoption, and to have the attention
+of all Europe drawn to your plight, was about the least respectable
+thing that could happen.  And there were international
+complications, which made things worse.  "English lady and her
+husband, of foreign nationality, held by Kurdish brigands who demand
+ransom" had been the report of the nearest Consul.  Although
+Dobrinton was British at heart, the other portions of him belonged
+to the Habsburgs, and though the Habsburgs took no great pride or
+pleasure in this particular unit of their wide and varied
+possessions, and would gladly have exchanged him for some
+interesting bird or mammal for the Schoenbrunn Park, the code of
+international dignity demanded that they should display a decent
+solicitude for his restoration.  And while the Foreign Offices of
+the two countries were taking the usual steps to secure the release
+of their respective subjects a further horrible complication ensued.
+Clyde, following on the track of the fugitives, not with any special
+desire to overtake them, but with a dim feeling that it was expected
+of him, fell into the hands of the same community of brigands.
+Diplomacy, while anxious to do its best for a lady in misfortune,
+showed signs of becoming restive at this expansion of its task; as a
+frivolous young gentleman in Downing Street remarked, "Any husband
+of Mrs. Dobrinton's we shall be glad to extricate, but let us know
+how many there are of them."  For a woman who valued respectability
+Vanessa really had no luck.
+
+Meanwhile the situation of the captives was not free from
+embarrassment.  When Clyde explained to the Kurdish headmen the
+nature of his relationship with the runaway couple they were gravely
+sympathetic, but vetoed any idea of summary vengeance, since the
+Habsburgs would be sure to insist on the delivery of Dobrinton
+alive, and in a reasonably undamaged condition.  They did not object
+to Clyde administering a beating to his rival for half an hour every
+Monday and Thursday, but Dobrinton turned such a sickly green when
+he heard of this arrangement that the chief was obliged to withdraw
+the concession.
+
+And so, in the cramped quarters of a mountain hut, the ill-assorted
+trio watched the insufferable hours crawl slowly by.  Dobrinton was
+too frightened to be conversational, Vanessa was too mortified to
+open her lips, and Clyde was moodily silent.  The little Limberg
+negociant plucked up heart once to give a quavering rendering of
+"Yip-I-Addy," but when he reached the statement "home was never like
+this" Vanessa tearfully begged him to stop.  And silence fastened
+itself with growing insistence on the three captives who were so
+tragically herded together; thrice a day they drew near to one
+another to swallow the meal that had been prepared for them, like
+desert beasts meeting in mute suspended hostility at the drinking
+pool, and then drew back to resume the vigil of waiting.
+
+Clyde was less carefully watched than the others.  "Jealousy will
+keep him to the woman's side," thought his Kurdish captors.  They
+did not know that his wilder, truer love was calling to him with a
+hundred voices from beyond the village bounds.  And one evening,
+finding that he was not getting the attention to which he was
+entitled, Clyde slipped away down the mountain side and resumed his
+study of Central Asian game-fowl.  The remaining captives were
+guarded henceforth with greater rigour, but Dobrinton at any rate
+scarcely regretted Clyde's departure.
+
+The long arm, or perhaps one might better say the long purse, of
+diplomacy at last effected the release of the prisoners, but the
+Habsburgs were never to enjoy the guerdon of their outlay.  On the
+quay of the little Black Sea port, where the rescued pair came once
+more into contact with civilisation, Dobrinton was bitten by a dog
+which was assumed to be mad, though it may only have been
+indiscriminating.  The victim did not wait for symptoms of rabies to
+declare themselves, but died forthwith of fright, and Vanessa made
+the homeward journey alone, conscious somehow of a sense of slightly
+restored respectability.  Clyde, in the intervals of correcting the
+proofs of his book on the game-fowl of Central Asia, found time to
+press a divorce suit through the Courts, and as soon as possible
+hied him away to the congenial solitudes of the Gobi Desert to
+collect material for a work on the fauna of that region.  Vanessa,
+by virtue perhaps of her earlier intimacy with the cooking rites of
+the whiting, obtained a place on the kitchen staff of a West End
+club.  It was not brilliant, but at least it was within two minutes
+of the Park.
+
+
+
+THE BAKER'S DOZEN
+
+
+
+Characters -
+
+MAJOR RICHARD DUMBARTON
+MRS. CAREWE
+MRS. PALY-PAGET
+
+Scene--Deck of eastward-bound steamer.  Major Dumbarton seated on
+deck-chair, another chair by his side, with the name "Mrs. Carewe"
+painted on it, a third near by.
+
+(Enter R. Mrs. Carewe, seats herself leisurely in her deck-chair,
+the Major affecting to ignore her presence.)
+
+Major (turning suddenly):  Emily!  After all these years!  This is
+fate!
+
+Em.:  Fate!  Nothing of the sort; it's only me.  You men are always
+such fatalists.  I deferred my departure three whole weeks, in order
+to come out in the same boat that I saw you were travelling by.  I
+bribed the steward to put out chairs side by side in an unfrequented
+corner, and I took enormous pains to be looking particularly
+attractive this morning, and then you say "This is fate."  I AM
+looking particularly attractive, am I not?
+
+Maj.:  More than ever.  Time has only added a ripeness to your
+charms.
+
+Em.:  I knew you'd put it exactly in those words.  The phraseology
+of love-making is awfully limited, isn't it?  After all, the chief
+charm is in the fact of being made love to.  You ARE making love to
+me, aren't you?
+
+Maj.:  Emily dearest, I had already begun making advances, even
+before you sat down here.  I also bribed the steward to put our
+seats together in a secluded corner.  "You may consider it done,
+sir," was his reply.  That was immediately after breakfast.
+
+Em.:  How like a man to have his breakfast first.  I attended to the
+seat business as soon as I left my cabin.
+
+Maj.:  Don't be unreasonable.  It was only at breakfast that I
+discovered your blessed presence on the boat.  I paid violent and
+unusual attention to a flapper all through the meal in order to make
+you jealous.  She's probably in her cabin writing reams about me to
+a fellow-flapper at this very moment.
+
+Em.:  You needn't have taken all that trouble to make me jealous,
+Dickie.  You did that years ago, when you married another woman.
+
+Maj.:  Well, you had gone and married another man--a widower, too,
+at that.
+
+Em.:  Well, there's no particular harm in marrying a widower, I
+suppose.  I'm ready to do it again, if I meet a really nice one.
+
+Maj.:  Look here, Emily, it's not fair to go at that rate.  You're a
+lap ahead of me the whole time.  It's my place to propose to you;
+all you've got to do is to say "Yes."
+
+Em.:  Well, I've practically said it already, so we needn't dawdle
+over that part.
+
+Maj.:  Oh, well -
+
+(They look at each other, then suddenly embrace with considerable
+energy.)
+
+Maj.:  We dead-heated it that time.  (Suddenly jumping to his feet)
+Oh, d--- I'd forgotten!
+
+Em.:  Forgotten what?
+
+Maj.:  The children.  I ought to have told you.  Do you mind
+children?
+
+Em.:  Not in moderate quantities.  How many have you got?
+
+Maj. (counting hurriedly on his fingers):  Five.
+
+Em.:  Five!
+
+Maj. (anxiously):  Is that too many?
+
+Em.:  It's rather a number.  The worst of it is, I've some myself.
+
+Maj.:  Many?
+
+Em.:  Eight.
+
+Maj.:  Eight in six years!  Oh, Emily!
+
+Em.:  Only four were my own.  The other four were by my husband's
+first marriage.  Still, that practically makes eight.
+
+Maj.:  And eight and five make thirteen.  We can't start our married
+life with thirteen children; it would be most unlucky.  (Walks up
+and down in agitation.)  Some way must be found out of this.  If we
+could only bring them down to twelve.  Thirteen is so horribly
+unlucky.
+
+Em.:  Isn't there some way by which we could part with one or two?
+Don't the French want more children?  I've often seen articles about
+it in the FIGARO.
+
+Maj.:  I fancy they want French children.  Mind don't even speak
+French.
+
+Em.:  There's always a chance that one of them might turn out
+depraved and vicious, and then you could disown him.  I've heard of
+that being done.
+
+Maj.:  But, good gracious, you've got to educate him first.  You
+can't expect a boy to be vicious till he's been to a good school.
+
+Em.:  Why couldn't he be naturally depraved.  Lots of boys are.
+
+Maj.:  Only when they inherit it from depraved parents.  You don't
+suppose there's any depravity in me, do you?
+
+Em.:  It sometimes skips a generation, you know.  Weren't any of
+your family bad?
+
+Maj.:  There was an aunt who was never spoken of.
+
+Em.:  There you are!
+
+Maj.:  But one can't build too much on that.  In mid-Victorian days
+they labelled all sorts of things as unspeakable that we should
+speak about quite tolerantly.  I dare say this particular aunt had
+only married a Unitarian, or rode to hounds on both sides of her
+horse, or something of that sort.  Anyhow, we can't wait
+indefinitely for one of the children to take after a doubtfully
+depraved great-aunt.  Something else must be thought of.
+
+Em.:  Don't people ever adopt children from other families?
+
+Maj.:  I've heard of it being done by childless couples, and those
+sort of people -
+
+Em.:  Hush!  Some one's coming.  Who is it?
+
+Maj.:  Mrs. Paly-Paget.
+
+Em.:  The very person!
+
+Maj.:  What, to adopt a child?  Hasn't she got any?
+
+Em.:  Only one miserable hen-baby.
+
+Maj.:  Let's sound her on the subject.
+
+(Enter Mrs. Paly-Paget, R.)
+
+Ah, good morning.  Mrs. Paly-Paget.  I was just wondering at
+breakfast where did we meet last?
+
+Mrs. P.-P.:  At the Criterion, wasn't it?
+
+(Drops into vacant chair.)
+
+Maj.:  At the Criterion, of course.
+
+Mrs. P.-P.:  I was dining with Lord and Lady Slugford.  Charming
+people, but so mean.  They took us afterwards to the Velodrome, to
+see some dancer interpreting Mendelssohn's "song without clothes."
+We were all packed up in a little box near the roof, and you may
+imagine how hot it was.  It was like a Turkish bath.  And, of
+course, one couldn't see anything.
+
+Maj.:  Then it was not like a Turkish bath.
+
+Mrs. P.-P.:  Major!
+
+Em.:  We were just talking of you when you joined us.
+
+Mrs. P.-P.:  Really!  Nothing very dreadful, I hope.
+
+Em.:  Oh dear, no!  It's too early on the voyage for that sort of
+thing.  We were feeling rather sorry for you.
+
+Mrs. P.-P.:  Sorry for me?  Whatever for?
+
+Maj.:  Your childless hearth and all that, you know.  No little
+pattering feet.
+
+Mrs. P.-P.:  Major!  How dare you?  I've got my little girl, I
+suppose you know.  Her feet can patter as well as other children's.
+
+Maj.:  Only one pair of feet.
+
+Mrs. P.-P.:  Certainly.  My child isn't a centipede.  Considering
+the way they move us about in those horrid jungle stations, without
+a decent bungalow to set one's foot in, I consider I've got a
+hearthless child, rather than a childless hearth.  Thank you for
+your sympathy all the same.  I dare say it was well meant.
+Impertinence often is.
+
+Em.:  Dear Mrs. Paly-Paget, we were only feeling sorry for your
+sweet little girl when she grows older, you know.  No little
+brothers and sisters to play with.
+
+Mrs. P.-P.:  Mrs. Carewe, this conversation strikes me as being
+indelicate, to say the least of it.  I've only been married two and
+a half years, and my family is naturally a small one.
+
+Maj.:  Isn't it rather an exaggeration to talk of one little female
+child as a family?  A family suggests numbers.
+
+Mrs. P.-P.:  Really, Major, you language is extraordinary.  I dare
+say I've only got a little female child, as you call it, at present
+-
+
+Maj.:  Oh, it won't change into a boy later on, if that's what
+you're counting on.  Take our word for it; we've had so much more
+experience in these affairs than you have.  Once a female, always a
+female.  Nature is not infallible, but she always abides by her
+mistakes.
+
+Mrs. P.-P. (rising):  Major Dumbarton, these boats are uncomfortably
+small, but I trust we shall find ample accommodation for avoiding
+each other's society during the rest of the voyage.  The same wish
+applies to you, Mrs. Carewe.
+
+(Exit Mrs. Paly-Paget, L.)
+
+Maj.:  What an unnatural mother!  (Sinks into chair.)
+
+Em.:  I wouldn't trust a child with any one who had a temper like
+hers.  Oh, Dickie, why did you go and have such a large family?  You
+always said you wanted me to be the mother of your children.
+
+Maj.:  I wasn't going to wait while you were founding and fostering
+dynasties in other directions.  Why you couldn't be content to have
+children of your own, without collecting them like batches of
+postage stamps I can't think.  The idea of marrying a man with four
+children!
+
+Em.:  Well, you're asking me to marry one with five.
+
+Maj.:  Five!  (Springing to his feet)  Did I say five?
+
+Em.:  You certainly said five.
+
+Maj.:  Oh, Emily, supposing I've miscounted them!  Listen now, keep
+count with me.  Richard--that's after me, of course.
+
+Em.:  One.
+
+Maj.:  Albert-Victor--that must have been in Coronation year.
+
+Em.:  Two!
+
+Maj.:  Maud.  She's called after -
+
+Em.:  Never mind who's she's called after.  Three!
+
+Maj.:  And Gerald.
+
+Em.:  Four!
+
+Maj.:  That's the lot.
+
+Em.:  Are you sure?
+
+Maj.:  I swear that's the lot.  I must have counted Albert-Victor as
+two.
+
+Em.:  Richard!
+
+Maj.:  Emily!
+
+(They embrace.)
+
+
+
+THE MOUSE
+
+
+
+Theodoric Voler had been brought up, from infancy to the confines of
+middle age, by a fond mother whose chief solicitude had been to keep
+him screened from what she called the coarser realities of life.
+When she died she left Theodoric alone in a world that was as real
+as ever, and a good deal coarser than he considered it had any need
+to be.  To a man of his temperament and upbringing even a simple
+railway journey was crammed with petty annoyances and minor
+discords, and as he settled himself down in a secondclass
+compartment one September morning he was conscious of ruffled
+feelings and general mental discomposure.  He had been staying at a
+country vicarage, the inmates of which had been certainly neither
+brutal nor bacchanalian, but their supervision of the domestic
+establishment had been of that lax order which invites disaster.
+The pony carriage that was to take him to the station had never been
+properly ordered, and when the moment for his departure drew near
+the handy-man who should have produced the required article was
+nowhere to be found.  In this emergency Theodoric, to his mute but
+very intense disgust, found himself obliged to collaborate with the
+vicar's daughter in the task of harnessing the pony, which
+necessitated groping about in an ill-lighted outhouse called a
+stable, and smelling very like one--except in patches where it smelt
+of mice.  Without being actually afraid of mice, Theodoric classed
+them among the coarser incidents of life, and considered that
+Providence, with a little exercise of moral courage, might long ago
+have recognised that they were not indispensable, and have withdrawn
+them from circulation.  As the train glided out of the station
+Theodoric's nervous imagination accused himself of exhaling a weak
+odour of stable-yard, and possibly of displaying a mouldy straw or
+two on his usually well-brushed garments.  Fortunately the only
+other occupant of the compartment, a lady of about the same age as
+himself, seemed inclined for slumber rather than scrutiny; the train
+was not due to stop till the terminus was reached, in about an
+hour's time, and the carriage was of the old-fashioned sort, that
+held no communication with a corridor, therefore no further
+travelling companions were likely to intrude on Theodoric's semi-
+privacy.  And yet the train had scarcely attained its normal speed
+before he became reluctantly but vividly aware that he was not alone
+with the slumbering lady; he was not even alone in his own clothes.
+A warm, creeping movement over his flesh betrayed the unwelcome and
+highly resented presence, unseen but poignant, of a strayed mouse,
+that had evidently dashed into its present retreat during the
+episode of the pony harnessing.  Furtive stamps and shakes and
+wildly directed pinches failed to dislodge the intruder, whose
+motto, indeed, seemed to be Excelsior; and the lawful occupant of
+the clothes lay back against the cushions and endeavoured rapidly to
+evolve some means for putting an end to the dual ownership.  It was
+unthinkable that he should continue for the space of a whole hour in
+the horrible position of a Rowton House for vagrant mice (already
+his imagination had at least doubled the numbers of the alien
+invasion).  On the other hand, nothing less drastic than partial
+disrobing would ease him of his tormentor, and to undress in the
+presence of a lady, even for so laudable a purpose, was an idea that
+made his eartips tingle in a blush of abject shame.  He had never
+been able to bring himself even to the mild exposure of open-work
+socks in the presence of the fair sex.  And yet--the lady in this
+case was to all appearances soundly and securely asleep; the mouse,
+on the other hand, seemed to be trying to crowd a Wanderjahr into a
+few strenuous minutes.  If there is any truth in the theory of
+transmigration, this particular mouse must certainly have been in a
+former state a member of the Alpine Club.  Sometimes in its
+eagerness it lost its footing and slipped for half an inch or so;
+and then, in fright, or more probably temper, it bit.  Theodoric was
+goaded into the most audacious undertaking of his life.  Crimsoning
+to the hue of a beetroot and keeping an agonised watch on his
+slumbering fellow-traveller, he swiftly and noiselessly secured the
+ends of his railway-rug to the racks on either side of the carriage,
+so that a substantial curtain hung athwart the compartment.  In the
+narrow dressing-room that he had thus improvised he proceeded with
+violent haste to extricate himself partially and the mouse entirely
+from the surrounding casings of tweed and halfwool.  As the
+unravelled mouse gave a wild leap to the floor, the rug, slipping
+its fastening at either end, also came down with a heart-curdling
+flop, and almost simultaneously the awakened sleeper opened her
+eyes.  With a movement almost quicker than the mouse's, Theodoric
+pounced on the rug, and hauled its ample folds chin-high over his
+dismantled person as he collapsed into the further corner of the
+carriage.  The blood raced and beat in the veins of his neck and
+forehead, while he waited dumbly for the communication-cord to be
+pulled.  The lady, however, contented herself with a silent stare at
+her strangely muffled companion.  How much had she seen, Theodoric
+queried to himself, and in any case what on earth must she think of
+his present posture?
+
+"I think I have caught a chill," he ventured desperately.
+
+"Really, I'm sorry," she replied.  "I was just going to ask you if
+you would open this window."
+
+"I fancy it's malaria," he added, his teeth chattering slightly, as
+much from fright as from a desire to support his theory.
+
+"I've got some brandy in my hold-all, if you'll kindly reach it down
+for me," said his companion.
+
+"Not for worlds--I mean, I never take anything for it," he assured
+her earnestly.
+
+"I suppose you caught it in the Tropics?"
+
+Theodoric, whose acquaintance with the Tropics was limited to an
+annual present of a chest of tea from an uncle in Ceylon, felt that
+even the malaria was slipping from him.  Would it be possible, he
+wondered, to disclose the real state of affairs to her in small
+instalments?
+
+"Are you afraid of mice?" he ventured, growing, if possible, more
+scarlet in the face.
+
+"Not unless they came in quantities, like those that ate up Bishop
+Hatto.  Why do you ask?"
+
+"I had one crawling inside my clothes just now," said Theodoric in a
+voice that hardly seemed his own.  "It was a most awkward
+situation."
+
+"It must have been, if you wear your clothes at all tight," she
+observed; "but mice have strange ideas of comfort."
+
+"I had to get rid of it while you were asleep," he continued; then,
+with a gulp, he added, "it was getting rid of it that brought me to-
+-to this."
+
+"Surely leaving off one small mouse wouldn't bring on a chill," she
+exclaimed, with a levity that Theodoric accounted abominable.
+
+Evidently she had detected something of his predicament, and was
+enjoying his confusion.  All the blood in his body seemed to have
+mobilised in one concentrated blush, and an agony of abasement,
+worse than a myriad mice, crept up and down over his soul.  And the,
+as reflection began to assert itself, sheer terror took the place of
+humiliation.  With every minute that passed the train was rushing
+nearer to the crowded and bustling terminus where dozens of prying
+eyes would be exchanged for the one paralysing pair that watched him
+from the further corner of the carriage.  There was one slender
+despairing chance, which the next few minutes must decide.  His
+fellow-traveller might relapse into a blessed slumber.  But as the
+minutes throbbed by that chance ebbed away.  The furtive glance
+which Theodoric stole at her from time to time disclosed only an
+unwinking wakefulness.
+
+"I think we must be getting near now," she presently observed.
+
+Theodoric had already noted with growing terror the recurring stacks
+of small, ugly dwellings that heralded the journey's end.  The words
+acted as a signal.  Like a hunted beast breaking cover and dashing
+madly towards some other haven of momentary safety he threw aside
+his rug, and struggled frantically into his dishevelled garments.
+He was conscious of dull surburban stations racing past the window,
+of a choking, hammering sensation in his throat and heart, and of an
+icy silence in that corner towards which he dared not look.  Then as
+he sank back in his seat, clothed and almost delirious, the train
+slowed down to a final crawl, and the woman spoke.
+
+"Would you be so kind," she asked, "as to get me a porter to put me
+into a cab?  It's a shame to trouble you when you're feeling unwell,
+but being blind makes one so helpless at a railway station."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext of Reginald in Russia etc by Saki(Munro)
+
diff --git a/old/rgrus10.zip b/old/rgrus10.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b1c40ac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/rgrus10.zip