Chapter X

As a matter of fact the jury were quite right. In company with a lady who shall be nameless I did do it. At least, at one time I thought I did. Only we have proved so often that somebody else did it, we have shown so conclusively that we can't have done it, that we find ourselves wondering if we really did.

Perhaps we didn't.

If we did we apologise to all concerned--except, of course, to Mr. Winthrop. I suspect him.

A.P.H.

* * * * *

_Sympathetic Friend._ "WELL, YOU'VE LAID HER UP NICELY FOR THE WINTER, ANYHOW."]

* * * * *

MIXED METEOROLOGICAL MAXIMS.

(_By a Student of Psychology._)

When the glass is high and steady
For domestic broils be ready.
When the glass is low and jerky
Then look out for squalls in Turkey.
When the air is dull and damp
Keep your eye on Mr. CRAMP.
When the air is clear and dry
On BOB WILLIAMS keep your eye.
When it's fine and growing finer
Keep your eye upon the miner.
When it's wet and growing wetter
'Twill be worse before it's better.
When the tide is at its ebb
Fix your gaze on SIDNEY WEBB.
When the tide is at high level
Modernists discuss the Devil.
Floods upon the Thames or Kennet
Stimulate the brain of BENNETT;
While a waterspout foretells
Fresh activities in WELLS.
When it's calm in the Atlantic
Gooseberries become gigantic.
When it's rough in the Pacific
Laying hens are less prolific.
When the clouds are moving _largo_
There is no restraining MARGOT.
When their movement is _con brio_
'Ware CHIOZZA MONEY (LEO)!
When the sun is bright but spotty
Diarists become more dotty.
When the sun is dim and hazy
Diarists become more crazy.
When the nights are calm and still
Faster travels GARVIN'S quill.
When the blizzard's blast is hissing
REPINGTON is reminiscing.

If you ponder well these lines
You can read the weather signs
In accordance with the rule
Binding both on sage and fool:--
_Anything in mortal ken
May befall us anywhen._

* * * * *

COMMERCIAL IMPORTUNITY.

"Services! Dozens other cars available, £1,500 to £50. Call and
insult us."

_Motor Journal._

* * * * *

MORE VISIONS OF THE UNSEEN.

"The roads are peculiarly situated, and are dangerous not only
because they are main cross roads, but also on account of the
hidden view they afford of each other."--_Local Paper._

* * * * *

_Pupil_ (_after mature deliberation_). "_Fump-Fump._"]

* * * * *

THE DEVOTED LOVER.

["Loiterers will be treated as trespassers."--_Notice on Tube
Station._]

No longer laud, my Jane, the ancient wooer
Who for the favours of his ladye fayre
Would sally forth to strafe the evil-doer
Or beard the dragon in his inmost lair;
Find it no more, dear heart, a ground for stray tiffs
Because, forsooth, you can't detect in me
A tendency to go out whopping caitiffs
Daily from ten till three.

He proved himself in his especial fashion,
Daring the worst to earn a lover's boon,
But I, no less than he a prey to passion,
Faced risks as great this very afternoon,
When at the Tube a long half-hour I waited
(In fond obedience to your written beck)
Where loiterers, it practically stated,
Would get it in the neck.

The liftmen who from time to time ascended
To spill their loads (in which you had no part)
Regarded me with eagle eyes intended
To lay the touch of terror on my heart;
But through a wait thus perilously dreary
My spirits drooped not nor my courage flinched;
"She cometh not," I merely sighed, "I'm weary
And likely to be pinched."

You came at last, long last, to end my fretting,
And now you know how your devoted bard
Faced for your sake the risk of fine or getting
An unaccustomed dose of labour (hard);
Harbour no more that idiotic notion
That love to-day is unromantic, flat;
Gave _Lancelot_ such a proof of his devotion,
Did _Galahad_ do that?

* * * * *

PAMELA'S ALPHABET.

_Scene._--A DOMESTIC INTERIOR.

Pamela's _father, in one armchair, is making a praiseworthy effort to absorb an article in a review on "The Future of British Finance." In another armchair_ Pamela's _mother is doing some sort of mending._ Pamela _herself, stretched upon the hearthrug, is reading aloud interesting extracts from a picture-book._

_Pamela_ (_in a cheerful sing-song_). A for Donkey; B for Dicky.

_Her Father._ What sort of dicky?

_Pamela_ (_examining the illustration more closely_). All ugly black, bissect for his blue mouf.

_Her Mother_ (_instructively_). Not blue; yellow. And it's a beak, not a mouth.

_Pamela._ I calls it a mouf. He's eating wiv it. (_With increasing disfavour_) A poor little worm he's eating. Don't like him; he's crool. (_She turns the page hurriedly and continues_) C for Pussy; D for Mick.

[_This is the name of the family mongrel. That the picture
represents an absolutely thoroughbred collie matters nothing to_
Pamela. _She spends some time in admiring_ Mick, _then rapidly
sweeps over certain illustrations that fail to attract._

_Pamela_ (_stopping at the sight of a web-footed fowl, triumphantly_). G for Quack-quack.

_Her Father._ Oh, come, Pamela, that's not a quack-quack; that's a goose. It makes quite a different noise.

[_Anticipating an immediate demand for a goose's noise he clears
his throat nervously._

_Pamela_ (_with authority_). This one isn't making any noise. It's jus' thinking. (_Her father accepts the correction and swallows again._) H for Gee-gee. Stupid gee-gee.

_Her Father._ Why stupid?

_Pamela._ 'Acos its tail looks silly.

_Her Father_ (_glancing at the tail, which bears some resemblance to an osprey's feather_). You're right; it does.

_Her Mother._ I wonder whether it's wrong to let children get accustomed to bad drawings?

_Her Father._ Pamela doesn't get accustomed--she criticises. If it weren't for a silly tail here, a stupid face there, her critical faculty might lie for ever dormant.

_Pamela_ (_having turned over four or five pages with one grasp of the hand, as if determined to suppress the unsatisfactory horse_). R for Bunny.

_Her Mother._ No, dear, Rabbit. R for _R_abbit. B for _B_unny.

_Pamela_ (_gently_). No; B is for Dicky. The ugly dicky wiv the blue mouf.

_Her Father_ (_rashly_). The blackbird.

_Pamela_ (_conscious of superior knowledge_). That isn't its name. That's what it looks like, all black; but its name is Dicky. B for Dicky.

_Her Father._ Well, have it your own way. What does S stand for?

_Pamela_ (_turning to the likeness of an elderly quadruped, with great assurance_). Baa-lamb!

_Her Father._ Sometimes we call baa-lambs sheep.

_Pamela._ I don't.

_Her Father._ You will when you grow older.

_Pamela._ I won't be any older, not for ever so long. Not till next birfday. (_Pushing her book away and assuming an air of extreme infancy_) Tired of reading. Want a piggy-back, _please_!

_Her Father_ (_firmly taking up his review again_). Not just now. I'm busy with a picture-book.

[_A reproachful silence falls upon the room._

_Pamela_ (_presently, in a mournful chant_). A for Don-key. B for Dicky--

_The Scene closes._

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Sailor._ "WE HAVE JUST SEEN SOME ORANGE-PEEL AND BANANA-SKINS FLOATING ON THE STARBOARD, SIR."

_Columbus._ "WAS THERE ANY CHEWING-GUM?"

_Sailor._ "NO, SIR."

_Columbus._ "THEN IT MUST BE THE WEST INDIES WE'RE COMING TO, AND I'D HOPED IT WAS GOING TO BE AMERICA."]

* * * * *

FLOWERS' NAMES.

CROW'S-FOOT.

Have you noticed that the splendid dreams, the best dreams that there are,
Come always in the darkest nights without a single star?
When the moonless nights are blackest the best dreams are about;
I'll tell you why that should be so and how I found it out.

There's a bird who comes at night-time, and underneath his wings,
All warm and soft and feathery, lie tiny fairy things;
He spreads his wings out widely (you see them, not the dark)
And you hear the fairies whispering, "Hush! hush!" "I'll tell you!" "Hark!"

The bird is black and feathery, but his feet are made of gold;
He chiefly comes in summer-time, for fairies hate the cold;
And if the nights are velvet-dark and full of summer airs
He lingers till the sun creeps up and finds him unawares.

And so you'll see in summer-time, when all the dew is wet,
The footprints of his golden claws maybe will linger yet;
The little golden flower-buds will gleam like golden grain,
And if you pick and cherish them perhaps you'll dream again.

* * * * *

"NO, MY BOY--NOT YET."]

* * * * *

HONOURS EASY.

I.

Not very long ago the following advertisements appeared in the same column of _The Southshire Daily Gazette_:

"Lost, a pure black Pekinese dog, wearing a silver badge marked
'Cherub.' Handsome reward offered. F.B., Grand Hotel,
Brightbourne."

"Found, a black Pekinese, wearing a silver badge marked
'Cherub.' No reward required. The Limes, Cheviot Road,
Brightbourne."