The war was really responsible for a great many unfortunate occurrences, as so many observant people have already pointed out. Here, for instance, is the case of two returned Lieutenants who, in their year’s stay in Germany, have managed to pick up a good working knowledge of the French language. By way of celebrating their home-coming, they have been invited to see the latest imported French farce--and find that they can understand every word of it. In the future, they will only patronize domestic products. FOR THE CHILDREN’S SAKE This is one of those delightful little occasions where the children are given their annual holiday treat. All their existing ancestors, in a body, take them to the Hippodrome. For weeks before the eventful evening, their parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles go about suffering intensely saying what a fearful bore it is going to be and how they dread it, but they really must go through with it--it means so much to the kiddies. Here is the party, shown in action,--observe the deadly boredom of the grown people and the hysterical hilarity of the little guests of honor. [Illustration] CAN YOU GUESS WHO’S ON THE STAGE, NOW? As we explained just a few minutes ago, a glance at the audience will show you what’s going on, on the stage. When the ladies are reading the notes in the programme, or in studying the components of the complexion of the woman in the stage box, while the attention of the gentlemen is riveted on the stage--then you know that the chorus girls have undulated on. [Illustration] SPEEDING THE PARTING GUESTS Of course, you were thrilled when they--your week-end guests--accepted your invitation; and you were tremendously glad to see them when they arrived; and you enjoyed every minute of their stay,--but, oh, Lady, Lady,--wasn’t the most exquisite moment of all that when you and your consort waved a fond farewell to them and the back axle of their Rolls-Royce? Week-ends are wonderful, but, wasn’t Tennyson clever when he said that parting is _such_ sweet sorrow! The Horrors of the Week End _From the Tortured Hostess’s Point of View_ [Illustration] [Illustration] WHY DINNER WAS LATE The chief horror of every week-end is the lady guest who comes without a maid, borrows the hostess’s, monopolizes her wholly and leaves the hostess marooned in her boudoir, unnerved, unnoticed, and unhooked. This migratory blight always wears a gown out of which she can only escape with the aid of Harry Houdini. In the meantime, below stairs, the pommes-soufflés have collapsed and--which is a great deal more important--the cook is getting ready to do likewise. VISITORS-IN-LAW