ing box and go
round doing good myself.

"And it is not only me--I should say I," I continued; "I don't want you
to run away with the idea that I am the only good man in the world.
That's what I like about Christmas, it makes everybody good. The lovely
sentiments we go about repeating! the noble deeds we do! from a little
before Christmas up to, say, the end of January! why noting them down
must be a comfort to you."

"Yes," he admitted, "noble deeds are always a great joy to me."

"They are to all of us," I said; "I love to think of all the good deeds I
myself have done. I have often thought of keeping a diary--jotting them
down each day. It would be so nice for one's children."

He agreed there was an idea in this.

"That book of yours," I said, "I suppose, now, it contains all the good
actions that we men and women have been doing during the last six weeks?"
It was a bulky looking volume.

Yes, he answered, they were all recorded in the book.

The Author tells of his Good Deeds.

It was more for the sake of talking of his than anything else that I kept
up with him. I did not really doubt his care and conscientiousness, but
it is always pleasant to chat about one's self. "My five shillings
subscription to the _Daily Telegraph's_ Sixpenny Fund for the
Unemployed--got that down all right?" I asked him.

Yes, he replied, it was entered.

"As a matter of fact, now I come to think of it," I added, "it was ten
shillings altogether. They spelt my name wrong the first time."

Both subscriptions had been entered, he told me.

"Then I have been to four charity dinners," I reminded him; "I forget
what the particular charity was about. I know I suffered the next
morning. Champagne never does agree with me. But, then, if you don't
order it people think you can't afford it. Not that I don't like it.
It's my liver, if you understand. If I take more--"

He interrupted me with the assurance that my attendance had been noted.

"Last week I sent a dozen photographs of myself, signed, to a charity
bazaar."

He said he remembered my doing so.

"Then let me see," I continued, "I have been to two ordinary balls. I
don't care much about dancing, but a few of us generally play a little
bridge; and to one fancy dress affair. I went as Sir Walter Raleigh.
Some men cannot afford to show their leg. What I say is, if a man can,
why not? It isn't often that one gets the opportunity of really looking
one's be