ot him to draw me up a Bannockburn
pedigree. A Scotch one, you know. I was going to have it framed in the
hall. Burn the thing without looking at it."

"Was it--was it--very expensive?" his wife asked tremblingly.

"Fifty pounds," he said, half in pride at his own recklessness and half
as though having a tooth out.

"Fifty pounds!" Mrs. Blumenbach moaned, and burst into tears.

* * * * *

Illustration: _Lady (diligent reader of spy articles and exposures of
Anglo-German businesses) to alien window-cleaner._ "LOOK HERE: YOU
NEEDN'T COME ANY MORE."

_Window Cleaner._ "ENDIRELY BRIDISCH GOMBANY, LADY."

_Lady._ "YES, I DARESAY. BUT FOR ALL I KNOW YOU MIGHT BE PART OF THE
FLOWER OF THE GERMAN ARMY."

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)

I can imagine the feelings of a romantic maiden who, prone to choose her
novels by title, has set down on her library list _The Price of Love_
(METHUEN), and finds herself landed with one of Mr. ARNOLD BENNETT'S
intimate little guides to "Bursley" and the four other drab towns. And
yet if she will set her teeth and read the first fifty pages without
skipping she will discover that she is being let into real secrets of
real human hearts; that handsome _Rachel_ (penniless companion to a
benign old lady), and her debonair _Louis_ (who somehow never can run
straight where money is concerned), are becoming known to her as she
knows few, if any, of her friends; and that, because known, they are
extraordinarily interesting. She will see _Rachel_ drawn out of the
haven of her staunch and critical common sense by her infatuation for
_Louis_; threatened by the shipwreck of despair when she realises his
weakness and her irrevocable mistake, and again putting into a new
harbour of determination to pay the price of her love and make the best
of things. And I should not be altogether surprised if even our romantic
library-subscriber finds the next live-happily-ever-after story a little
flat by comparison. For there is no doubt that Mr. BENNETT has some
uncanny power of realising the conflict of human souls, and that there
is an astonishingly adroit method in his mania for unimportant and
unromantic detail. I refuse altogether to accept as adequate (or
appropriate) his explanations of the adventures of the banknotes on the
night of their disappearance, but I am grateful for every word and
inc