e said it was her speciality, her _forte_.

"Yes, but can you do them as I like them, I wonder."

How did I like them?

"Well, my idea of an apple tart is that there should be so much lemon in it
that it tastes of lemon rather than apple."

"Mine, too," she said. "I always put a lot of lemon in."

"And," I went on, "wherever the tart doesn't taste of lemon I like it to
taste of cloves."

"I was just going to say the same. I always put in plenty of cloves."

"In short, the whole duty of a cook who is given an apple to cook is," I
said, "to see that every scrap of the divine--of the flavour of the apple
is smothered and killed."

She looked at me a little in perplexity.

"Isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes," she faltered.

"Well," I said, "I've recently been to see my doctor and he says that there
are two things I must never touch again, at least in an apple tart: lemon
and cloves. Otherwise he can't answer for the consequences. Will you help
me to avoid them, at home at any rate? Will you?"

She was a good woman with a kind heart and she promised.

She has kept her promise.

Apple tarts in our house are worth eating.

* * * * *

TRYING ON.

"I am going to London," I said.

"Going to London?" said the lady of the house. "What for?"

"To live a double life," I said. "Many men do it and are never found out
till they have been dead quite a long time. I'm going to begin to-day, and
first I'm going to call on my tailor."

"But you can't call on your tailor in those clothes."

"Why not?" I said. "He made the clothes, and the least he can do is to look
at them after I've worn them all these years."

"Dad's going to London in his old brown suit," said Helen to Rosie, who had
just entered the room.

"Oh, but he simply _can't_," said Rosie in a shocked voice.

"_I_ like the suit," said Peggy. "The trousers are so funny."

"They do bag at the knees," I admitted. "But then all sincere and
honourable trousers do that. There is, of course, an unmanly variety that
never bags and always keeps a crease down its middle, but you wouldn't have
me wear those--now would you?"

"You can wear what you like," said the lady of the house, "so long as you
don't wear what you've got on."

"Well," I said with dignity, "I'm not the man to insult an old friend. I
shall wear this suit, and, what's more, I shall get my hair cut, too."

"That's right; get yourself cropped like a convict."

"You oug