herself. Considered merely as an article of vertu it was about on a par with the pincushions, but Celia accepted it in the spirit with which it had been offered. And, warned by experience, she did not lock it up in the obscurity of a cabinet, nor contrive that some convenient accident should befall it, wisely preferring "to bear those ills she had than fly to others," etc. And so it still remains a permanent eyesore on her mantelshelf.

Then it seemed that Jillings, who, by the way, was not uncomely, had established friendly relations with one of the gardeners at the big house of the neighbourhood—with the result that Celia found her sitting-rooms replenished at frequent intervals with the most magnificent specimens of magnolia, tuberose, stephanotis and gardenia. Unfortunately she happens to be one of those persons whom any strongly scented flowers afflict with violent headache. But she never mentioned this for fear of wounding Jillings' susceptibilities. Luckily, Jillings and the under-gardener fell out in a fortnight.

As was only to be expected, the other servants, being equally devoted to their mistress, could not allow Jillings to monopolize the pride and glory of putting her under an obligation. Very soon a sort of competition sprang up, each of them endeavouring to out-do the other in giving Celia what they termed, aptly enough, "little surprises," till they hit upon the happy solution of clubbing together for the purpose. Thus Celia, having, out of the kindness of her heart, ordered an expensive lace hood for the baby from a relation of the nurse's at Honiton, was dismayed to discover, when the hood arrived, that it was already paid for and was a joint gift from the domestics. After that she felt, being Celia, that it would be too ungracious to insist on refunding the money.

It was not until I was staying with her last Spring that I heard of all these excesses. But at breakfast on Easter Sunday not only did Celia, Tony and the baby each receive an enormous satin egg filled with chocolates, but I was myself the recipient of one of these seasonable tokens, being informed by the beaming Jillings that "we didn't want you, Sir, to feel you'd been forgotten." By lunch-time it became clear that she had succeeded in animating at least one of the local tradesmen with this spirit of reckless liberality. For when Celia made a mild inquiry concerning a sweetbread which she had no recollection of having ordered Jillings explained, with what I fear I must describe as a self-conscious smirk, that it was "a little Easter orfering from the butcher, Madam." I am bound to say that even Celia was less scrupulous about hurting the butcher's feelings—no doubt from an impression that his occupation must have cured him of any over-sensitiveness.

As soon as we were alone she told me all she had been enduring, which it seemed she had been careful not to mention in her letters to Jack. "I simply can't tell you,

Uncle," she concluded pathetically, "how wearing it is to be constantly thanking somebody for something I'd ever so much rather be without. And yet—what else can I do?"

I suggested that she might strictly forbid all future indulgence in these orgies of generosity, and she supposed meekly that she should really have to do something of that sort, though we both knew how extremely improbable it was that she ever would.

This morning I had a letter from her. Jack had got leave at last and she was expecting him home that very afternoon, so I must come down and see him before his six days expired. "I wish now," she went on, "that I had taken your advice, but it was so difficult somehow. Because ever since I told Jillings and the others about Jack's coming home they have been going about smiling so importantly that I'm horribly afraid they're planning some dreadful surprise, and I daren't ask them what. Now I must break off, as I must get ready to go to the station with Tony and meet dear Jack...."

Then followed a frantic postscript. "I know now! They've dressed poor Tony up in a little khaki uniform that doesn't even fit him! And, what's worse, they've put up a perfectly terrible triumphal arch over the front gate, with 'Hail to our Hero' on it in immense letters. They all seem so pleased with themselves—and anyway there's no time to alter anything now. But I don't know what Jack will say."

I don't either, but I could give a pretty good guess. I shall see him and Celia to-morrow. But I shall be rather surprised if I see Jillings.

Old Lady (quite carried away). "How nice it is to have the ticket proffered, as it were, instead of thrust upon one!"

THE WELL-DISPOSED ONES.

(With acknowledgments to the back page of "The Referee.")

Bertram Brazenthwaite, Basso-Profondo (varicose veins and flat feet), respectfully informs his extensive clientèle that he has a few vacant dates at the end of 1917. Comings-of-Age, Jumble Sales and Fabian Society Soirees a specialité.

Do you want your Christening to be a succès fou? Then send for Hubert the Homunculus, London's Premier Baby-Entertainer (astigmatism, and conscientious objections).

High-art pamphlet from "The Lebanons," New North Road, N.

Jolly Jenkin, Patriotic Prestidigitator (Group 98). Nominal terms to the Army, Navy and Civic Guard. Address till end of week, The Parthenon, Puddlecombe. Next, Reigate Rotunda.

Broody, in fact.

HOW I DINED WITH THE PRESIDENT.

The Truth about Wilson.
[SPECIAL TO PUNCH.]

On Saturday, January 22nd, I arrived in Washington from Seattle. The Seattle part is another story.

What I have to tell to-day, here, now, and once for all, is what I saw of the President at close quarters outside and inside the White House and what happened at the historic dinner-party, at which I was the only representative of a belligerent country present.

By a fortunate coincidence Mr. Wilson arrived at the railway depôt on his return from a game of golf with his secretary, Mr. Tumulty, as I was loitering at the bookstall. I had never seen either of them before, but intuitively recognised them in a flash. Mr. Tumulty looked exactly as a man with so momentous a name could only look. The President was garbed in a neutral-tinted lounge-suit and wore a dark fawn overcoat and dove-coloured spats.

How did the President