gine me to be a torpedo-destroyer on the Maplin Sands, and tell me
what on earth to do."

"Take your skis off."

"Oh, brilliant!" said Myra.

"Take my skis off?" I cried. "Never! Is it not my duty to be the last to
leave my skis? Can I abandon---- Hallo! is that Dahlia on the sky-line?
Hooray, lunch! Archie, take my skis off, there's a good fellow. We
mustn't keep Dahlia waiting."

III.--A TYPICAL MORNING

"You take lunch out to-day--no?" said Josef, the head-waiter, in his
invariable formula.

Myra and I were alone at breakfast, the first down. I was just putting
some honey on to my seventh roll, and was not really in the mood for
light conversation with Josef about lunch. By the way, I must say I
prefer the good old English breakfast. With eggs and bacon and porridge
you do know when you want to stop; with rolls and honey you hardly
notice what you are doing, and there seems no reason why you should not
go on for ever. Indeed, once ... but you would never believe me.

"We take lunch out to-day, _yes_, Josef. Lunch for--let me see----"

"Six?" suggested Myra.

"What are we all going to do? Archie said something about skating. I'm
off that."

"But whatever we do we must lunch, and it's much nicer outdoors. Six,
Josef."

Josef nodded and retired. I took my eighth roll.

"Do let's get off quickly to-day," I said. "There's always so much chat
in the morning before we start."

"I've just got one swift letter to write," said Myra, as she got up,
"and then I shall be pawing the ground."

Half an hour later I was in the lounge, booted, capped, gloved, and
putteed--the complete St. Bernard. The lounge seemed to be entirely full
of hot air and entirely empty of anybody I knew. I asked for letters;
and, getting none, went out and looked at the thermometer. To my
surprise I discovered that there were thirty-seven degrees of frost. A
little alarmed, I tapped the thing impatiently. "Come, come," I said,
"this is not the time for persiflage." However, it insisted on remaining
at five degrees below zero. What I should have done about it I cannot
say, but at that moment I remembered that it was a Centigrade
thermometer with the freezing point in the wrong place. Slightly
disappointed that there were only five degrees of frost (Centigrade) I
returned to the lounge.

"Here you are at last," said Archie impatiently. "What are we all going
to do?"

"Where's Dahlia?" asked Myra. "Let's wait till she comes and then we