“Yes,” she said, in a low musical voice, “I remember a story.” And this is the story which she remembered:-- * * * * * It happened one day that Zeus was in a bad temper--a thoroughly bad temper. When this took place the whole of Olympus knew it. John Ganymede knew it. He had grown respectable and middle-aged. He was inclined to be portly, and still more inclined to give his views on anything to anybody. Just at present he was standing in his pantry, polishing glasses, and talking to the Deputy Cloud-controller. “There’s no pleasin’ of him, when he’s like that,” said Ganymede, shaking his bald respectable head. “Last night he was suthin’ awful. ‘Ganymede,’ he says to me, when I brings him his whisky last thing afore he goes to bed, ‘you can pour it out for me.’ So I does. ‘And you can put hot water in it.’ So I does again. ‘I think a couple of lumps of sugar would improve it--and a little bit of lemon peel--don’t you, Ganymede?’ ‘Yessir, suttinly sir,’ I says, and puts ’em in. ‘Grate a little nutmeg on the top.’ I were surprised, o’ course, but I did it. ‘Stick a couple of spoonfuls of Maraschino into it.’ All this time he’s lookin’ as quiet and gentle as a hangel. There wasn’t no Maraschino, and I had to go down to the cellar and fetch it. I measures it out careful, and says nothing. ‘I’ll have a large lump of ice in it, and two straws.’ I thought his poor ’ead must be going, but it wasn’t my place to make no remarks. I just carries out the horder. ‘Have you done all that, Ganymede?’ he asks, drowsy-like. ‘Yessir, suttinly sir,’ says I. ‘Well, there,’ says he, ‘you--several blanks--now you can run round, and see if you can find a dog that’s such a Zeus-forsaken fool as to drink it--because I ain’t going to.’ And with that he goes off into his bedroom, screamin’ an’ laughin’ an’ swearin’ like a maniac. Now that ain’t no way to be’ave.” The Deputy Cloud-controller could sympathise. That very morning Zeus had sent for him, and demanded: “How’s the wind?” “Due East,” said the Deputy. “Then make it due West.” The Deputy bowed, retired, and made it due West. In ten minutes’ time he was summoned before Zeus again. “Make it East and West and South and North all at once,” said Zeus. “I can’t,” said the Deputy. “Then consider yourself discharged,” roared Zeus. “Then consider _yourself_ a blighted idiot,” replied the Deputy indiscreetly, getting ready to dodge a thunderbolt. “So I do,” said Zeus, who never was very expected. “Go away, and send me some one else to be angry with. You’re stale.” The Deputy Cloud-controller had found some difficulty in getting any one to go. “What am I to do, Mr. Ganymede?” said the Deputy despairingly. “They all say that it’s more than their lives are worth. And the females won’t stand his language. I must send some one, or I shall get discharged in real earnest.”