A frock of pale pink georgette, with long bell-shaped sleeves and a black velvet girdle knotted at one side, fitted him seemingly like a glove. A large Leghorn hat, its black velvet streamers fastened beneath his chin, heavily weighted with a full-blown rose over one eye, threatened to hide his rebellious mop of hair. White silk stockings and a pair of ordinary pumps completed his attire. A miniature apron, bearing the stencilled legend 'AN ENGLISH ROSE' upon its muslin, left no doubt about his identity. Beneath my gaze he looked down and simpered, swinging his bead bag ridiculously. I leaned back in my chair and began to laugh like a madman. Then I remembered my knee-caps, and got up and leaned against the wall, whence I could see him better. As if his appearance alone were not enough, he spoke in an absurd falsetto. "No, I'm not supposed to be out till after Easter. But don't let that stop you. I mean--you know I do say such dreadful things, and all the time.... Father always calls me a tom-cat--I mean, tom-boy, but I don't care. Haven't you any sisters? What not even a 'step'? Oh, but what luck--I mean, I think we'll sit this one out, shall I? I know a lovely place--in the inspection pit. I often go and sit there when I want to have a good fruity drink--I mean, think. I always think it's so wonderful to look up and see the gear-box, and the differential, and the dear old engine-shield and feel you're alone with them all--absolutely alone...." The tempestuous arrival of Adèle, looking sweet as "Pierrette," and Jonah in the traditional garb of "Harlequin," cut short the soliloquy... It was ere the two had recovered from their first paroxysm of laughter that Berry minced to the fireplace and, with the coyest of pecks, rang the electric bell. A moment later Falcon entered the room. My brother-in-law laughed and looked down, fingering his dress. "Oh, Falcon," he said archly, "about to-morrow. I don't know whether Mrs. Pleydell's told you, but there'll be four extra to lunch." I have seen Falcon's eyes twinkle, and I have seen his mouth work--times without number. I have seen him thrust a decanter upon the sideboard and disappear shaking from the apartment. But never before have I seen his self-control crumple as a ripped balloon. For a second he stared at the speaker. Then he flung us one desperate, appealing glance, emitted a short wail, and, looking exactly as if he was about to burst into tears, clapped both hands to his mouth and made a rush for the door. As he reached it, a little Dutch Jill danced into the room, looking adorable. Use holds. Falcon straightened his back, stepped to one side, and bowed his apologies. The temporary check, however, was his undoing. As Jill flashed by, he turned his face to the wall and sobbed like a child....