e notoriously curious, and we are hardly surprised
to learn that the Afghans could not "abide their question."

* * * * *

[Illustration: A COCK-AND-BULL STORY.]

* * * * *

THE LANGUAGE DIFFICULTY.

"The jolly part about an island where there are no towns and no
railways," said Willoughby, "is that you have thrills of excitement as
to where you will sleep next night or eat your next meal. Now when we
land at Lochrie Bay to-morrow it will be nearly lunch-time; but shall
we get lunch?"

"I can answer that," replied MacFadden, whose grandfather was a
Scotsman, and who was once in Edinburgh for a week; "the map shows
it is only five miles to Waterfoot, and there's sure to be an hotel
there. Those little Scots inns are all right."

"Yes," chimed in Sylvia, "and very likely there'll be nothing to eat
when we get there. I am thinking of you three men, of course," she
added hastily; "we girls don't want much."

"As for me," said Willoughby, looking at Sylvia, whom he has adored
dumbly for years, "very little satisfies me. I'm like the fellow who
said, 'a crust of bread, a bottle of wine and you.' You know the chap,
MacFadden."

"Isn't it wonderful how he remembers his OMAR?" remarked Mac
enthusiastically.

"I don't know much poetry," said Willoughby, whose tastes are sporting
rather than literary, "but I always liked that bit."

"But lunch," I interposed, "is the pressing question. There's sure to
be an hotel at Waterfoot, as you say. Send a telegram there, asking
for lunch for six. If there's no hotel, no reply and no lunch. If
there is we get our reply and our lunch. Willoughby can wire, because
he learned all about telegraphs in the army."

Within two hours came the reply. I opened it.

"Will supply luncheon for six, 1.15 to-day."

"Can you remember what your wire said, Willoughby?" I asked mildly.

"Rather. 'Can you provide luncheon for six at 1.15.--Willoughby.'"

"Exactly. Can't you see, you silly ass, how you've muffed it? Read
this." Willoughby read, while Sylvia and Molly looked over and
giggled.

"Hang it all! I suppose I ought to have said to-morrow," he sighed.
"Here, Thompson, you and Hilda, as the married couple of the party,
ought to deal with these beastly emergencies."

"Not I," I replied. "You've got us in the muddle, now get us out. Wire
and say it's for to-morrow."

"And then," said my practical wife, "we shall get to-d