by which this house is
distinguished, and to mark or affix on some conspicuous part thereof a
new number, and to renew the same as often as it is obliterated or
defaced.' Selah."

"Whatever," said Daphne, "do you mean?"

"Sorry," said Berry. "Let me put it another way. Some genii,
masquerading as officials, have got a move on. Snuffing the air of
'Reconstruction,' they have realized with a shock that the numbers of
the houses in this street have not been changed for over half a century.
Thirstily they have determined to repair the omission. We've always been
'38.' In a few days, with apologies to Wordsworth, we shall be '7.' A
solemn thought."

"But can we do nothing?"

"Certainly. In that case somebody else will obliterate the existing
number, and I shall be summoned to appear before a Justice of the
Peace."

"It's outrageous," said Daphne. "It'll cause endless confusion, and
think of all our notepaper and cards. All the dies will have to be
scrapped and new ones cut."

"Go easy," said I. "After a decent interval they'll alter the name of
the street. Many people feel that The Quadrant should be renamed 'The
Salient,' and Piccadilly 'High Street.' I'm all for Progress."

"Is this renumbering stunt a fact?" said Jonah. "Or are you Just being
funny?"

"It's a poisonous but copper-bottomed fact," said Berry. "This is the
sort of thing we pay rates and taxes for. Give me Germany."

"Can't we refuse?"

"I've rung up Merry and Merry, and they've looked up the law, and say
there's no appeal. We are at the mercy of some official who came out top
in algebra in '64 and has never recovered. Let us be thankful it wasn't
geography. Otherwise we should be required to name this house 'Sea View'
or 'Clovelly.' Permit me to remark that the port has now remained
opposite you for exactly four minutes of time, for three of which my
goblet has been empty."

"I think it's cruel," said Jill, passing on the decanter. "I think----"

"Hush," said Berry. "That wonderful organ, my brain, is working."
Rapidly he began to write upon the back of a _menu_. "We must inform the
world through the medium of the Press. An attractive paragraph must
appear in _The Times_. What could be more appropriate than an epitaph?
Ply me with wine, child. The sage is in labour with a song." Jill filled
his glass and he drank. "Another instant, and you shall hear the
deathless words. I always felt I should be buried in the Abbey. Anybody
give me a rhyme