s about to
say that I regarded that letter as one of the brightest jewels in an
already crowded diadem."

"Give me the writing-block," I said shortly, producing my fountain-pen.
I turned to Daphne. "What sort of a bath d'you want?"

"Porcelain-enamel, they call it, don't they?" she replied vaguely,
subjecting a box of chocolates to a searching cross-examination.

Berry rose to his feet and cleared his throat. Then he sang lustily:

"What of the bath?
The bath was made of porcelain,
Of true ware, of good ware,
The ware that won't come off."

A large cushion sailed into his face. As it fell to the ground, Berry
seized it and held it at arm's length.

"Ha," he said rapturously. "A floral tribute. They recognize my
talent."

"Not at all," said Jonah. "I only threw that, because the dead cats
haven't come."

"Exactly," said I. "We all know you ought to be understudying at the
Hoxton Empire, but that's no reason why we should be subjected--"

"Did you notice the remarkable compass of my voice?" said Berry,
sinking into a chair.

"I did," said I. "I should box it, if I were you, brother. Bottle it,
if you prefer."

"Poor fool," said my brother-in-law. "For the trumpet notes, to which
it has just been your privilege to listen, there is a great future. In
short, my voice is futurist. The moment they hear it, the few who have
paid for their seats will realize what the box-office will say when
they demand the return of their money."

"And those who have not paid?" said I.

"Oh, they will understand why they were given tickets."

"Suppose you write that letter," said Daphne wearily.

I bent over the writing-block.

"You know," said Berry, "I don't think this bath's at all necessary."

At this there was a great uproar. At length:

"Besides," said my sister, "we all decided that we must have another
bath ages ago. The only question there's ever been was where to put
it."

"Of course," said I. "If we don't, where are we going to dip the
sheep?"

"Well, I think it's a shame to pull the old place about like this. If
we're so awfully dirty, we'd better find another house that's got four
bathrooms already, and sell White Ladies."

"Sell White Ladies?" cried Jill.

Berry nodded.

"Not only lock and stock, but barrel too. Yes," he added bitterly,
"the old water-butt must go."

"Look here," said I. "It occurs to me that this isn't a case for a
letter. We ought to go and choose