Still, it's what we came here for," I pointed out. "No, no bacon,
thanks; a small piece of dry toast."

"I suppose the machine couldn't have made a mistake?"

"It seemed very decided about it. It didn't hesitate at all."

"Just try again after breakfast to make sure."

"Perhaps I'd better try now," I said, getting up, "because if I turned
out to be only twenty-stone-six I might venture on a little porridge
after all. I shan't be long."

I went upstairs. I didn't dare face that weighing-machine in my clothes
after the way in which I had already strained it without them. I took
them off hurriedly and stepped on. To my joy the bar stayed in its
downward position. I took off an ounce ... then another ounce. The bar
remained down....

At eighteen-stone-two I jumped off for a moment in order to shut the
window, which some careless housemaid had opened again....

At twelve-stone-seven I shouted through the door to Celia that I
shouldn't be long, and that I should want the porridge after all....

At four-stone-six I said that I had better have an egg or two as well.

At three ounces I stepped off, feeling rather shaken.

* * * * *

I have not used the weighing-machine since; partly because I do not
believe it is trustworthy, partly because I spent the rest of my leave in
bed with a severe cold. We are now in London again, where I am putting on
flesh. At least the doctor who slapped me about yesterday said that I
must, and I promised him that I would.

THE PATRIOT

This is a true story. Unless you promise to believe me, it is not much
good my going on ... You promise? Very well.

Years ago I bought a pianola. I went into the shop to buy a gramophone
record, and I came out with a pianola--so golden-tongued was the manager.
You would think that one could then retire into private life for a
little, but it is only the beginning. There is the music-stool to be
purchased, the library subscription, the tuner's fee (four visits a year,
if you please), the cabinet for the rolls, the man to oil the pedals,
the--However, one gets out of the shop at last. Nor do I regret my
venture. It is common talk that my pianola was the chief thing about
me which attracted Celia. "I _must_ marry a man with a pianola," she
said ... and there was I ... and here, in fact, we are. My blessings,
then, on the golden tongue of the manager.

Now there is something very charming in a proper modesty about one'