When Margery says "Gorky" twice in one night, it is useless to argue. I gave in at once. "Butter," I said, "placed upon the haft of the javelin, would make it slip, and put him off his shot. He would miss the Secretary and marry the niece." So we put a good deal of butter on Sir Arthur, and for the moment the Secretary is safe. I don't know if we shall be able to keep it there; but in case jam does as well, Margery has promised to stroke him every day. However, I anticipate. As soon as the secretarial life was saved, Margery said "Agga," which is as it were, "_Encore_," or "_Bis_," so that I have her permission to tell you that story all over again. Instead I will give you the tragedy of George, the other fellow (no knight he), as she told it to me afterwards. "George was quite a different man from Sir Arthur. So far from being elected to anything under Rule Two, he got blackballed for the North London Toilet Club. Opinions differed as to why this happened; some said that it was his personal unpopularity (he had previously been up, without success, for the membership of the local Ratepayers Association) others (among them the Proprietor), that his hair grew too quickly. Anyhow, it was a great shock to George, and they had to have a man in to break it to him. (It's always the way when you have a man in.) "George was stricken to the heart. This last blow was too much for what had always been a proud nature. He decided to emigrate. Accordingly he left home, and moved to Islington. Whether he is still there or not I cannot say; but a card with that postmark reached his niece only this week. It was unsigned, and bore on the space reserved for inland communications these words: 'The old, old wish--A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.'" "But what about the javelin?" I asked Margery. (This fellow had a javelin too, you remember.) "Gorky," said Margery for the third time, which means---- Well, upon my word, I don't know what it means. But it would explain it all. Meanwhile Sir Arthur (he was in my story, you know) is still waiting for the Secretary. In case the butter gives out, have I mentioned that the Secretary wants _all_ the flowers to be white? IV. THE ART OF CONVERSATION "In conversation," said somebody (I think it was my grandfather), "there should always be a give and take. The ball must be kept rolling." If he had ever had a niece two years old, I don't think he would have bothered. "What's 'at?" said Margery, pointing suddenly. "That," I said, stroking it, "is dear uncle's nose." "What's 'at?" "Take your finger away. Ah, yes, that is dear uncle's eye. The left one." "Dear uncle's left one," said Margery thoughtfully. "What's it doing?" "Thinking." "What's finking?" "What dear uncle does every afternoon after lunch." "What's lunch?" "Eggs, sardines, macaroons--everything." With a great effort Margery resisted the temptation to ask what "everything" was (a difficult question), and made a statement of her own.