itedly. "We made the change several
days ago."

"Yes," replied her husband, "but the notice goes on to say that everyone
who has changed since the war began must revert to the name he had
before the war commenced. You can't get away from that."

"But we paid for it," Mrs. Bannockburn exclaimed. "We paid for it. Why
did they take our money?"

"They didn't know then," said her lord. "It's only just decided by this
infernal Government."

Mrs. Bannockburn turned white. "This is terrible," she said. "And how
unfair! How grossly unfair! It's not as if we were Germans. I'm not a
German at all, and you are merely a German's son, and British to the
core. Of course they'll give the money back?"

"It says nothing about that," replied the Briton.

"How very unlike England!" she said.

"Yes," he agreed; "but the point is, apart from the horrible expense of
it all, that here we are, saddled with a name which is bound to keep
customers away and which we thought we had got rid of for ever. It's
horrible. It's wrong. It's a shame." He paced the room furiously.

Mrs. Bannockburn--or, as we now should say, Mrs. Blumenbach--looked in
the fire for a few moments in silence. "Well," she said at last, "we
must make the best of it, I suppose; we're not paupers anyway, and
things are never so bad as one fears. After all, we haven't been to so
very much expense. A few cards and so forth. You, dear, can hardly have
spent a penny over it."

"Eh," said Mr. Blumenbach sharply--"what?"

"I said that the cost to which we have gone since we changed our name is
very trifling," his wife repeated. "You yourself have been put to no
expense at all, except perhaps office paper."

Mr. Blumenbach looked suspiciously at her and resumed his walk. "No,
no," he said; "that's fortunate certainly."

At this moment a servant entered bringing the post, which included a
long roll of paper addressed to "Mrs. Julius Bannockburn."

"I wonder what this can be," she remarked as she reached for a
paper-knife.

Her husband snatched it and held it behind him. "Oh, I know all about
that," he said; "it's a mistake. It's meant for me, not you."

"But it's addressed to me," said his wife. "Please let me have it."

Mr. Blumenbach for a moment flashed lightning. "Oh, all right," he said,
"take it. I might as well confess to my folly, and, after all, I did it
as a pleasant surprise for you, even though it's a failure. But I heard
about some heraldic fellow, and I g