a certain scornful serenity had replaced the earlier scowls; he
had evidently accepted defeat with a contemptuous good grace.

The tall lady gave a direction to the footman and settled herself in the
carriage. The little figure in the white sailor suit clambered in beside
her, still carefully holding the elegantly garbed doll.

The car had to be backed a few yards in the process of turning. Very
stealthily, very gently, very mercilessly Victor sent Morlvera flying
over his shoulder, so that she fell into the road just behind the
retrogressing wheel. With a soft, pleasant-sounding scrunch the car went
over the prostrate form, then it moved forward again with another
scrunch. The carriage moved off and left Bert and Emmeline gazing in
scared delight at a sorry mess of petrol-smeared velvet, sawdust, and
leopard skin, which was all that remained of the hateful Morlvera. They
gave a shrill cheer, and then raced away shuddering from the scene of so
much rapidly enacted tragedy.

Later that afternoon, when they were engaged in the pursuit of minnows by
the waterside in St. James's Park, Emmeline said in a solemn undertone to
Bert--

"I've bin finking. Do you know oo 'e was? 'E was 'er little boy wot
she'd sent away to live wiv poor folks. 'E come back and done that."

SHOCK TATICS

On a late spring afternoon Ella McCarthy sat on a green-painted chair in
Kensington Gardens, staring listlessly at an uninteresting stretch of
park landscape, that blossomed suddenly into tropical radiance as an
expected figure appeared in the middle distance.

"Hullo, Bertie!" she exclaimed sedately, when the figure arrived at the
painted chair that was the nearest neighbour to her own, and dropped into
it eagerly, yet with a certain due regard for the set of its trousers;
"hasn't it been a perfect spring afternoon?"

The statement was a distinct untruth as far as Ella's own feelings were
concerned; until the arrival of Bertie the afternoon had been anything
but perfect.

Bertie made a suitable reply, in which a questioning note seemed to
hover.

"Thank you ever so much for those lovely handkerchiefs," said Ella,
answering the unspoken question; "they were just what I've been wanting.
There's only one thing spoilt my pleasure in your gift," she added, with
a pout.

"What was that?" asked Bertie anxiously, fearful that perhaps he had
chosen a size of handkerchief that was not within the correct feminine
limit.

"I sh