jolliest
experiences attainable by humanity.

"Maurice," said Ronnie Walker, "we think your night was splendid. But we
think your morning is rotten."

"Oh, Maurice, why didn't you let us go to bed?" Jenny grumbled.

"You can't really blame the hotel people," Maurice began.

"We don't," interrupted Cunningham severely. "We blame you."

"I also blame myself," said Ronnie, "for giving way to your mad
schemes."

"You're right," Jenny put in. "I think we was all mad. What must they
have thought of us--a party of loonies, I should say."

"I meant it to be very charming," Maurice urged in apology.

"Oh, well, it'll all come out in the wash, but I wish they'd bring in
this unnatural breakfast."

The company sighed in unison, and, as if encouraged by such an utterance
of breath, the wisp of smoke broke into a thin blue flame.

"Come, that's better," said Maurice, unduly encouraged. "The fire's
burning up quite cheerfully."

This and the entrance of breakfast revived everybody, and when a genuine
blaze crackled in the grate they thought Greenwich was not so bad after
all; though Maurice could not persuade anybody to stand by the bleak
windows flecked with raindrops and watch the big ships going out on the
ebb.

"But what shall we do?" Jenny demanded. "I can't go home after the milk.
I shall get into a most shocking row."

"You can explain matters," Cunningham suggested.

"Yes, I should say. Who'd believe we should be so mad as to rush off to
Greenwich on a pouring morning for breakfast? No, I must say I slept
with Ireen."

"Well, why don't you come back and go to bed at my place?" Irene
suggested. "You can go home tea-time."

"All right. I will."

Maudie and Madge decided to copy the example of the other two, by going
back together to Mrs. Wilson's house near the Elephant and Castle.

"Only we ought to change our clothes first," Jenny said. "What of it
though? We've got cloaks."

"I shouldn't mind changing," said Castleton. "These claret-colored
overalls of mine will inevitably attract the public vision."

"Rot!" said Maurice. "We can all drive down to the Elephant--although,
by the way, we ought to stop at the Marquis of Granby and look at the
Museum."

"To the deuce with all museums," cried Ronnie. "I want my bed."

"You are an unsporting lot," Maurice protested. "Then we'll stop at the
'Elephant,' and the girls can go home in two taxis and we'll go back in
the others."

So it was arranged; and,