pe_ so."

"Two hundred and fifty. And what does that mean? It means that at
seven-thirty o'clock on the night of December the 8th two hundred and
fifty residents of Blanktown will _turn out the electric lights in their
drawing-rooms ..._ PERHAPS EVEN IN THEIR HALLS ... and proceed to
the lecture-room. True, the lecture-room will be lit up--a small
compensation--but not for long. When the slides of Vesuvius are thrown
upon the screen--"

Celia was going pale.

"But if it's not you," she faltered, "it will be somebody else."

"No; if I refuse, it will be too late then to get a substitute. Besides,
they must have tried everybody else before they got down to me... Celia
it is noble of you to sacrifice--"

"Don't go!" she cried in anguish.

I gave a deep sigh.

"For your sake," I said, "I won't."

So that settles it. If my lecture on "First Principles in Homoeopathy" is
ever to be delivered, it must be delivered elsewhere.

ENTER BINGO

Before I introduce Bingo I must say a word for Humphrey, his sparring
partner. Humphrey found himself on the top of my stocking last December,
put there, I fancy, by Celia, though she says it was Father Christmas.
He is a small yellow dog, with glass optics, and the label round his neck
said, "His eyes move." When I had finished the oranges and sweets and
nuts, when Celia and I had pulled the crackers, Humphrey remained over to
sit on the music-stool, with the air of one playing the pianola. In this
position he found his uses. There are times when a husband may
legitimately be annoyed; at these times it was pleasant to kick Humphrey
off his stool on to the divan, to stand on the divan and kick him on to
the sofa, to stand on the sofa and kick him on to the bookcase; and then,
feeling another man, to replace him on the music-stool and apologize to
Celia. It was thus that he lost his tail.

Here we say good-bye to Humphrey for the present; Bingo claims our
attention. Bingo arrived as an absurd little black tub of puppiness,
warranted (by a pedigree as long as your arm) to grow into a Pekinese. It
was Celia's idea to call him Bingo; because (a ridiculous reason) as
a child she had had a poodle called Bingo. The less said about poodles
the better; why rake up the past?

"If there is the slightest chance of Bingo--of this animal growing up
into a poodle," I said, "he leaves my house at once."

"_My_ poodle," said Celia, "was a lovely dog."

(Of course she was only a child t