while she was bathing it was playing at she-bears with her
garments. Miriam is always late for breakfast, and she wasn't really
missed till the middle of lunch.

However, I'm not going any further into the Fiscal Question. Only I
should like to be protected from the partner with a weak red tendency.

REGINALD'S CHRISTMAS REVEL

They say (said Reginald) that there's nothing sadder than victory except
defeat. If you've ever stayed with dull people during what is alleged to
be the festive season, you can probably revise that saying. I shall
never forget putting in a Christmas at the Babwolds'. Mrs. Babwold is
some relation of my father's--a sort of to-be-left-till-called-for
cousin--and that was considered sufficient reason for my having to accept
her invitation at about the sixth time of asking; though why the sins of
the father should be visited by the children--you won't find any
notepaper in that drawer; that's where I keep old menus and first-night
programmes.

Mrs. Babwold wears a rather solemn personality, and has never been known
to smile, even when saying disagreeable things to her friends or making
out the Stores list. She takes her pleasures sadly. A state elephant at
a Durbar gives one a very similar impression. Her husband gardens in all
weathers. When a man goes out in the pouring rain to brush caterpillars
off rose-trees, I generally imagine his life indoors leaves something to
be desired; anyway, it must be very unsettling for the caterpillars.

Of course there were other people there. There was a Major Somebody who
had shot things in Lapland, or somewhere of that sort; I forget what they
were, but it wasn't for want of reminding. We had them cold with every
meal almost, and he was continually giving us details of what they
measured from tip to tip, as though he thought we were going to make them
warm under-things for the winter. I used to listen to him with a rapt
attention that I thought rather suited me, and then one day I quite
modestly gave the dimensions of an okapi I had shot in the Lincolnshire
fens. The Major turned a beautiful Tyrian scarlet (I remember thinking
at the time that I should like my bathroom hung in that colour), and I
think that at that moment he almost found it in his heart to dislike me.
Mrs. Babwold put on a first-aid-to-the-injured expression, and asked him
why he didn't publish a book of his sporting reminiscences; it would be
_so_ interesting. She didn