f you please."

* * *

One hour had passed. Mr. ALKALOID, the photographer, had met Mr. MUSH.
Mr. ALKALOID had come from Ryde to London to get his hair singed. The
two accidentally met Mr. ROPES as he was dashing wildly down the street
towards his own shop. In one minute all was explained. Mr. ALKALOID had
fetched his photographic apparatus, and the three were careering back to
the house where the poodle lay dead. But was he dead? You know he
wasn't, as well as I do. What do you ask such senseless questions for?
"It's the only sure test," said ALKALOID. "If that dog's alive, he'll
wag his tail when I try to photograph him. I never knew it fail."

* * *

Outside the door of that gorgeously-furnished room stood an excited
group. ALGERNON, the villain, was soliloquising. ALICE was explaining to
CYRIL how he had dropped his note down the neck of the wrong girl--who
was also named SMITH--and how she had been compelled to believe him
unfaithful. Mr. ROPES was listening attentively at the key-hole, and
CYRIL was kissing ALICE.

Within the room Mr. ALKALOID was photographing the dead poodle. (I call
it dead, but of course that doesn't humbug _you_.)

"Now then, we're ready," they heard Mr. ALKALOID say. "Don't stare. Just
a natural, easy--now then--thank you!"

There was dead silence within the room and without. Then the door
opened, and Mr. ALKALOID came out cheerfully.

"The poodle's dead all right," he said. "What you took to be blood,
ROPES, was blacking off your razor. You really ought not to strop them
on your boot. I'll walk round to your shop with you. I want my hair
singed."

ALICE went into hysterics; ALGERNON swooned with joy; and CYRIL MUSH had
a fit.

At the moment of going to press, they are all three still in the above
condition. The dog, in the meantime, has been accidentally stuffed with
the stuffing intended for the stuffer's Christmas goose. The goose was
found, on carving, to be stuffed with several shilling shockers, which
had been intended to pad the poodle.

And to what better use could they have been put--especially if they were
all like this?

* * * * *

[Illustration: MISUNDERSTOOD!]

(ANNALS OF A QUIET NEIGHBOURHOOD.)

_Daughter of the House_ (_anxious to introduce Partners to each other_).
"IS YOUR CARD QUITE FULL, MR. M'SAWNEY?" _Mr. M'Sawney._ "OH DEAR, NO!
WHICH DANCE SHALL I GIVE YOU?"

* * * * *