he Club, which, as you and your wife know, is a safe
neutral ground for the entertainment of wild asses. Then, my very dear
hypocrite, we shall be quits.

Yours always,

RUDYARD KIPLING.

P. S.--On second thoughts I should recommend you to keep the book away
from Mrs. Mafflin.

POOR DEAR MAMMA

The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky, The deer to the wholesome wold, And
the heart of a man to the heart of a maid, As it was in the days of old.
Gypsy Song.

SCENE.--Interior of Miss MINNIE THREEGAN'S Bedroom at Simla. Miss
THREEGAN, in window-seat, turning over a drawerful of things. Miss EMMA
DEERCOURT, bosom--friend, who has come to spend the day, sitting on
the bed, manipulating the bodice of a ballroom frock, and a bunch
of artificial lilies of the valley. Time, 5:30 P. M. on a hot May
afternoon.

Miss DEERCOURT. And he said: "I shall never forget this dance," and,
of course, I said: "Oh, how can you be so silly!" Do you think he meant
anything, dear?

Miss THREEGAN. (Extracting long lavender silk stocking from the
rubbish.) You know him better than I do.

Miss D. Oh, do be sympathetic, Minnie! I'm sure he does. At least I
would be sure if he wasn't always riding with that odious Mrs. Hagan.

Miss T. I suppose so. How does one manage to dance through one's heels
first? Look at this--isn't it shameful? (Spreads stocking--heel on open
hand for inspection.)

Miss D. Never mind that! You can't mend it. Help me with this hateful
bodice. I've run the string so, and I've run the string so, and I can't
make the fulness come right. Where would you put this? (Waves lilies of
the valley.)

Miss T. As high up on the shoulder as possible.

Miss D. Am I quite tall enough? I know it makes May Older look lopsided.

Miss T. Yes, but May hasn't your shoulders. Hers are like a hock-bottle.

BEARER. (Rapping at door.) Captain Sahib aya.

Miss D. (Jumping up wildly, and hunting for bodice, which she has
discarded owing to the heat of the day.) Captain Sahib! What Captain
Sahib? Oh, good gracious, and I'm only half dressed! Well, I sha'n't
bother.

Miss T. (Calmly.) You needn't. It isn't for us. That's Captain Gadsby.
He is going for a ride with Mamma. He generally comes five days out of
the seven.

AGONIZED VOICE. (Prom an inner apartment.) Minnie, run out and give
Captain Gadsby some tea, and tell him I shall be ready in ten minutes;
and, O Minnie, come to me an instant, there's a dear girl!

Miss T. Oh, bother