id next door. Half a dozen tumblers, a basin and several odd
plates came in two in her hands after the grocer's assistant went away
suddenly to join the silent Navy. And nearly the whole of a dinner
service was sacrificed when Lloyd George peremptorily ordered her young
man in the New Army to go to Mesopotamia and stay there for at least
three years without leave.

Those brief periods when Elizabeth's young men are in the incipient
stages of paying her marked attention are agreeable to everybody.
Elizabeth, feeling no doubt in her rough untutored way that God's in
his Heaven and all's right with the world, sings at her work; she shows
extraordinary activity when going about her duties. She does unusual
things like remembering to polish the brasses every week--indeed, you
have only to step in the hall and glance at the stair rods to discover
the exact stage of her latest 'affair.' I remember once when one
ardent swain (who she declared was 'in the flying corpse') got to the
length of offering her marriage before he flew away, she cleaned the
entire house down in her enthusiasm--and had actually got to the
cellars before he vanished out of her life.

You will now understand why I was dejected at the perfidy of the
follower belonging to the Boilermakers' Society. I saw a dreary period
of discomfort ahead of me. Worst of all I was expecting the Boscombes
to dinner that very week. They had not before visited us, and Henry
was anxious to impress Mr. Boscombe, he being a publisher. It is
surprising, when you come to think of it, how full the world is of
writers trying to make a good impression on publishers. Yet no one has
met the publisher who ever tries to make a good impression on any one.

I will not elaborate the situation as it stood. All I can say is that
there is no earthly possibility of making a good impression on any
living thing if Elizabeth is in one of her bad moods. And it would be
no use explaining the case to Mrs. Boscombe, because she has no sense
of humour; or to Mr. Boscombe, because he likes a good dinner.

Finally, the Domestic Bureau failed me. Hitherto they had always been
able to supply me with a temporary waitress on the occasion of dinner
parties. Now it appeared these commodities had become pearls of great
price which could no longer be cast before me and mine (at the modest
fee of ten shillings a night) without at least fourteen days' notice.

The Bureau promised to do its best for