, absence from the pianola did not make the
heart grow fonder. On the contrary, we seemed to lose our taste for
music, and when at last we were restored to our pianola, we found that we
had grown out of it.

"It's very ugly," announced Celia.

"We can't help our looks," I said in my grandmother's voice.

"A book-case would be much prettier there."

"But not so tuneful."

"A pianola isn't tuneful if you never play it."

"True," I said.

Celia then became very alluring, and suggested that I might find somebody
who would like to be lent a delightful pianola by somebody whose "I put
in 'The Charge of the Uhlans,'" I said, "and it played 'God Save the
King.'"

Unfortunately he was a very patriotic man, and he believed it. So that is
how the story is now going about. But you who read this know the real
truth of the matter.

A QUESTION OF LIGHT

As soon as Celia had got a cheque-book of her own (and I had explained
the mysteries of "---- & Co." to her), she looked round for a safe
investment of her balance, which amounted to several pounds. My offers,
first of an old stocking and afterwards of mines, mortgages and aerated
breads, were rejected at once.

"I'll leave a little in the bank in case of accidents," she said, "and
the rest must go somewhere absolutely safe and earn me five per cent.
Otherwise they shan't have it."

We did what we could for her; we offered the money to archdeacons and
other men of pronounced probity; and finally we invested it in the
Blanktown Electric Light Company. Blanktown is not its real name, of
course; but I do not like to let out any information which may be of
value to Celia's enemies--the wicked ones who are trying to snatch her
little fortune from her. The world, we feel, is a dangerous place for a
young woman with money.

"Can't I _possibly_ lose it now?" she asked.

"Only in two ways," I said. "Blanktown might disappear in the night, or
the inhabitants might give up using electric light."

It seemed safe enough. At the same time we watched the newspapers
anxiously for details of the latest inventions; and anybody who happened
to mention when dining with us that he was experimenting with a new and
powerful illuminant was handed his hat at once.

You have Blanktown, then, as the depository of Celia's fortune. Now it
comes on the scene in another guise. I made the announcement with some
pride at breakfast yesterday.

"My dear," I said, "I have been asked to delive