they were at least the cheerful variety!

I went up to Miss Million's chair, ignoring the blue glance of the man
beside her, and said in my "professional," respectful murmur: "I have
brought your dressing-bag and a suit-case, Miss----"

"Why ever didn't you bring them down yesterday?" demanded Million, all
eyes and shrill Cockney accent.

"I didn't know, Miss, where I was to bring them," I replied, feeling the
amused gaze of the Honourable Jim upon me as I said it.

"But, bless me! I gave the full address," vociferated Miss Million, "in
that telegram!"

All the lunatics (or whatever they were) were also listening with
manifest enjoyment.

"There was no address, Miss," I said, as I handed her the wire, which I
still kept in my hand.

"Yes! But this was the second one I sent!" protested my mistress loudly.
"This was when I was at my wit's end and couldn't think why you didn't
come! I sent off that first one first thing in the morning; you ought to
have got it!"

"I never did, Miss," I began.

Then a robust, rollicking voice that I confusedly remembered broke in on
the discussion.

"There you are, you see! What do I always say? Never trust anything
except your lookin'-glass, and not that except it's in a cross light,"
cried the voice gaily. "Certainly don't trust anything with trousers on!
Not even if they are ragged ones and tied up with lumps of string! Not
even if they do pitch you a tale about having served in the Boer War!"

Still feeling as if I were in a weird dream, I turned towards the
direction of the voice that enunciated these puzzling sentiments.

It proceeded from----

Ah! I knew her, too!

I knew the brass-bright hair and the plump white-clad, sulphur-crested,
cockatoo-like form across the table.

"London's Love," again! Miss Vi Vassity herself! I'd seen her last where
I last saw Million--at that supper-table.... Now what in the world was
England's premier comedienne doing in this asylum--if an asylum it were?

She went on in her high swift voice. "You won't catch me giving
half-crowns to any more tramps to hand in a wire at the next
post-office! No! Not if they can sport a row of medals on their chests
from here to East Grinstead! I knew how it would be," declared Miss Vi
Vassity. "My kind heart's my downfall, but I'm going to sign the pledge
to reform that. And you, my dear----"--to me--

"You sit down and have a bite of something to eat with us. Your mistress
don't mind. You do