with lifted
eyebrows.

"Lady Knob-Kerrick," bawled Alice, throwing open the door with a
flourish.

Lady Knob-Kerrick sailed into the room, her head held high in
supercilious superiority. Following her came her companion, Miss
Strint, who had carried self-suppression and toadyism to the point of
inspiration. Immediately behind came John, Lady Knob-Kerrick's
footman, bearing before him the illuminated address, the purse
containing fifty Treasury pound notes, and the silver-mounted
hot-water bottle.

Bindle started clapping vigorously. Two or three other guests followed
suit; but the look Lady Knob-Kerrick cast about her proved to them
conclusively that Bindle had done the wrong thing.

"It is most kind of your ladyship to come." Mr. Hearty fussed about
Lady Knob-Kerrick, walking deprecatingly upon his toes. She appeared
entirely oblivious of his presence. He turned towards the harmonium
and made frantic signals to the leader of the glee-party. Suddenly the
quartette broke into song, every word ringing out clearly and
distinctly:

There's the blue eye and the brown eye, the grave eye and the sad,
There's the pink eye and the green eye and the eye that's rolling
mad;
But of all the eyes that eye me, be they merciful or bad,
The eye that I would choose is what they call "The Glad."
THE GLAD EYE.

The last line was rolled out sonorously by the bass.

The company looked at one another in amazement. Lady Knob-Kerrick,
scarlet with rage, glared through her lorgnettes at the singers and
then at Mr. Hearty, who from where he stood petrified gazed
wonderingtly at the glee-party. Mrs. Bindle, with great presence of
mind, moved swiftly across the room, and caught the falsetto by the
lapel of the coat just as he had opened his mouth to begin his solo
verse, dealing with the knowledge acquired by a flapper from the
country in the course of a fortnight's holiday in London. Mrs. Bindle
made it clear to the leader that as far as the Alton Road Chapel was
concerned he was indulging in an optical delusion.

"We are all deeply honoured by your Leddyship's presence this
evening," said Mr. MacFie, throwing himself into the breach. "It
is----"

"Get me a chair," demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick, still glaring in the
direction of the glee-singers.

Bindle rushed at her with a frail-looking hemp-seated chair, which he
proceeded to flick with his red silk pocket-handker