elves Alone"),
A lot of us would gladly let her take
Our WILSON for her very own,
To worship, like a god inside a tin fane,
As WOODROW ONE, First President of Sinn Fein.

O. S.

* * * * *

GOING TO THE BANK.

She thought she had got a bargain. It was only marked "20/-," and would
have been double the price at any of the West-end places. So she whipped
out her Japanese note-case, paid for it, and carried it off like a
whirlwind lest the shopman should find he had made a mistake.

But it was she who had made a mistake, and she broke the news to me at
breakfast on the following morning.

Two of her one-pound notes (or, to be exact, _my_ one pound notes) must
have stuck together. She had paid the West-end price after all.

Then, instead of blaming her own carelessness, as I should have done,
what must she do but attack Mr. LLOYD GEORGE?

"It's all his fault, this horrid dirty paper-money... Spreading
infection wherever it goes!"

It devolved upon me to defend the Government, which I did with some
heat, drawing forth another one-pound note casually, as though I were
made of them, and flourishing it in my hand.

"And anyway," I argued, "Mr. LLOYD GEORGE is not to blame. The note does
not bear his signature, but that of Sir JOHN BRADBURY. And a fine bold
signature it is--why, it's dirt-cheap for the lesson in handwriting
alone."

She did not appreciate that, because hers is a small scrabbed writing.
But I continued mercilessly--

"I bet he doesn't bite _his_ lips when he's signing his name."

"Extremely bad writing, I should call it," she retorted. "Look, you
cannot tell where the '_u_' ends and the '_r_' begins."

"But aside from that," I resumed (I was very proud of this expression,
having picked it up from President WILSON)--"aside from that, turn the
note over, feast your eyes on the picture of the Houses of Parliament.
It too is thrown in for nothing. This at least ought to appeal to you,
with your enthusiasm for Gothic architecture."

If looks could annihilate, that would have been my last boiled egg.

"You think yourself very clever," she said, "and you are supposed to
understand all about money matters. Surely you know of a bank where I
can take these wretched notes and get gold instead, the good old English
gold that was worth its face-value all the world over?"

I did not know she could be so eloquent. I rose and went to the window.
It was a noble morn