[Illustration]

This weighs on my mind. I can't help looking from one to the other--from
Chilvern to Miss Adelaide, from Miss Bella to Cazell.

Milburd is more attentive to the latter than Chilvern, who seems to me
to be making up to Miss Medford, if to anyone; while Byrton sits next
to Miss Bella at dinner, and monopolizes her entirely.

Sly things _are_ passing; I notice _that_. As President, I have to sit
at the head of the table, and can't join in any of the fun. They have
got a joke among them that I can't make out. The joke flies about, like
an invisible shuttlecock, between Cazell, Miss Adelaide, Chilvern, Miss
Bella, and Byrton.

Jenkyns Soames sits on my right, and _will_ talk arithmetic and science
to me.

The Medfords and the Frimmelys make another joke-party as it were, and I
cannot understand what's going on.

_Happy Thought._--Look as if I did. Smile, nod, say "I know." Milburd
asks, almost rudely, "_Do_ you? What is it?" As I don't, I merely smile
again, and say "Yes" to Jenkyns Soames, who is giving me his reasons for
supposing, by calculation, that vegetables have had a pre-adamite
existence, and that even a turnip may have a glorious future before it,
when man has disappeared from the face of the earth.

[I shall protest against my term of office being protracted beyond the
five weeks, after Christmas, that I undertook to stop here. Three have
expired. I begin to hate Jenkyns Soames.]

A servant brings in a card for Mr. Milburd.

+------------------+
| Baron Booteljak. |
+------------------+

"By Jove!" exclaims Milburd, "I _am_ so glad. That's capital."

Everyone puzzled.

_The Signor_ (_after reading the card_).--"O! eet ees a fonny name. I
nev-ver 'ear soch an-name-bef-fore. Deeek! eet ees your non-sense."

Milburd returns. He has shown the new guest to his room. He will join us
directly. He explains that sending in his card "Baron Booteljak" is "his
fun." "Such an amusing chap," says Milburd; "he has cards of all sorts
of names, printed to leave on his friends, and puzzle 'em. He tells me
that he's brought down a box of practical jokes with him, all labelled,
numbered, and ready for use."

This intelligence is not received with that warmth which Milburd
evidently had thought it would have elicited.

Further discussion is stopped by the entrance of

[