were beset by such wonderful
and various misfortunes that I should like to try and "place" them. The
Lion, I think, won in a canter, _Aunt Julia_ was a bad second, and The
Chafing-dish was third, while among the "also ran" were several
Policemen, The Balloon, _Cross-eyed Cranstone_ and The Motor-Bicycle.
But whether the _T. T.'s_ were nearly devoured by wild beasts or merely
annoyed by aunts and chafing-dishes, they continued to embrace each
other with magnificent heartiness whenever they had a moment to spare.
In short, Miss POPE'S high spirits never flag; and, even if you fail to
be amused by all the incidents in the _T. T.'s_ career, you will be glad
to make the acquaintance--under a new aspect, for Miss POPE'S talent as
a maker of light verse is established--of a writer so unaffectedly
cheerful and exhilarating.

* * * * *

"I cannot marry you or any man; _I am not free_," said _Polly Adair_ to
_Hemingway_, and the italics were her own. For my part, having been
rather pointedly informed earlier in the story that the lady was
understood in Zanzibar to be a widow, I began at this stage to suspect
that there was something lacking in the lateness of _Mr. Adair_. This
was a great pity, because _Polly_ and _Hemingway_ were obviously meant
for each other, as she and he and I and Mr. RICHARD HARDING DAVIS were
unanimously agreed. But there the fatal obstacle was, whatever it might
be. "I am not free," she repeated, and again the italics were her very
own. After much to-do, it came out that what she meant was that she had
a brother who oughtn't to be free; ought, if justice were done, to be
picking oakum or whatever else they pick in their leisure hours way back
in U.S.A. And this was the whole and the sole fatal obstacle!
_Hemingway_ took it as it came; Mr. DAVIS seemed quite pleased about it;
but I felt that I had been wantonly deceived. Baffle me by all means,
said I, but do not lie to me. Maybe I was not in a good temper at the
time, for the three preceding stories were not calculated to stir the
gentlest reader's sympathies. Possibly I am not in a good temper now,
for the three later stories (though "_The God of Coincidence_" only just
missed fire) were not distracting enough to deaden my sense of injury. A
pity, for _The Lost Road_ (DUCKWORTH) has such a good cover and the name
of such a good author on the back of it.

* * * * *

[Illustration: As dress