"Self," said Berry bitterly. "Why wasn't I born selfish? I've often tried, but you can't bend an oak, can you? Anybody can have my shirt at any time." Languidly he regarded his cuff. "No. Not this one, but almost any other. My life has been one long unrecognized sacrifice. And what is my reward?" He looked round about him with pitying eyes. "Poor bloated worms, you little know the angel that labours in your midst." His own being finished, with a sigh he took his wife's newly-lighted cigarette from the ashtray which they were sharing. "I had a dream last night," he added comfortably. "What about?" said Jill. "I dreamed," said Berry, "that I was a pint of of unusually broad beans. Several people remarked upon my breadth. After spirited bidding, I was secured by no less a personage than The McAroon himself, to whom I gave violent indigestion within twenty-four hours. Pleased with this attention, the laird erected in my memory a small bar at which the rankest poison could be obtained at all hours by asking in Hebrew for ginger ale. Which reminds me. I haven't taken my medicine." Meaningly he regarded the tray which had just been placed upon a side-table. "The doctor said I mustn't move about after meals, or I'd mix it myself. As it is...." He broke off and looked round expectantly. "Idle brute," said Daphne. "I wonder you aren't afraid to----Where's my cigarette? I only lighted one a moment ago." "Perhaps it's behind your ear," suggested her husband. "Perhaps----" "Where's the match you lighted that one from?" demanded his wife. "Woman," said Berry indignantly, "you forget yourself. Besides, I didn't use a match. I kindled it by rubbing two sticks together. Same as they do in Guano, where the jelly comes from." Here a diversion was caused by the opening of the door sufficiently to admit a slightly damp white ball with a black spot, which projected itself into the room as if possessed. Nobby. Exhilarated to frenzy by the reflection that at least four days must elapse before any one could be bothered to bathe him again, the terrier took a flying leap on to the sofa, licked Daphne's face, put a foot in Berry's eye, barked, hurled himself across the room to where Jonah was playing Patience, upset the card-table, dashed three times round the room, pretended to unearth a rat from the depths of Jill's chair, and finally flung himself exhausted at my feet. "I suppose this is what they call 'animal spirits,'" said Berry. "Or 'muscular Christianity.'" "It is well known," said I, "that exercise after a bath is most beneficial." "No doubt," was the icy reply. "Well, next time I put my foot in your eye, assume that I've had a bath and call it 'exercise,' will you?" "Have you written to the St. Martins?" said Daphne, "to say that you'll be a day late?" "I have. The masterpiece is on the writing-table, awaiting insertion in an envelope." I picked up the letter and read aloud as follows-- _MADAM,_