he Two Gentlemen of Verona" for the time being, and
Horace and Jack lay in the "Comedy of Errors." Kink and Diogenes were
somewhere at the back, and the Slowcoach was in the yard, surrounded by
motor-cars.

At the next table at dinner--in a beautiful old room with green matting
on the floor and a huge open fireplace--sat an old gentleman with white
hair and bright eyes behind very luminous spectacles, and from the tone
in which he talked to the waiter they guessed him to be an American.
After dinner he smoked cigarettes in an immensely long holder of amber
and gold, and now and then smiled at the children.

They were all rather tired, and went quickly to bed. Robert, who, you
remember, had been so contemptuous of the Shakespeare Hotel blankets
and sheets, slept a full ten hours; never, indeed, can a Gentleman of
Verona have passed a better night; and the others expressed no grief at
having to lie in proper beds once more.

When they came down to breakfast the next morning, they found a letter
addressed to

Mr. KINK'S CHILDREN'S PARTY.
Shakespeare Hotel,
Stratford-on-Avon.

Robert looked at it, and threw it down.

"Very offensive," he said.

Mrs. Avory handed it to Janet.

"Whoever can it be from?" Janet asked, turning it over and over. "The
postmark is Chiswick."

"A good way to find out," said Gregory, "is to open it."

Janet did so, and read it, laughing. "It's an attempt at a nasty letter
from William," she said. "He's pretending to be cross because Jack won.
Poor William! Listen:

DEAR LITTLE ONES,

"I hope you are having a good time in that stuffy caravan, and manage
to avoid blisters. I thought you would like to hear that father has
given me leave to go to Sheppey, and stay for three days with Mr.
Fowler, who has promised to take me up in an aeroplane. I am also to
have riding-lessons, and Aunt Mildred has promised me a pony, being so
sorry to hear that I was done out of the caravan trip by a fluke. Uncle
Jim has sent me 5 pounds. According to the papers the weather is going
to break up directly. Your affectionate and prosperous friend,

WILLIAM ROTHERAM.

Jack was speechless with fury. "The story-teller!" he cried.

But Mary laughed. "I think it's rather clever," she said. "It almost
took me in."

"Do you mean to say it's a good joke?" Jack asked.

"I think so," said Mary.

"I don't," said Jack. "I think jokes ought to be straightforward. I
think you ought to know exactly that