Violet Orpington had an arresting appearance, and walked rather like a policeman also. Her hair was a rich raw sienna, and any man would have made love to her had she but carried an ear-trumpet. She is the "retiring Violet" of verse seven.[A] Millie Wyandotte was malicious and unintelligent; she looked well in white, but was too heavily built for my taste. I may add, as evidence of my impartiality, that she laid a table better than any woman I ever knew; in fact, she took first prize in a laying competition. Nettie Minorca was "black but comely," and had Spanish blood in her veins. She is the "gipsy" mentioned in verse one-and-a-half. Popsie Bantam was _petite_. Her profile was admired, but I always thought it a little beaky myself. I myself was the least beautiful, but the most attractive. Allusions to me will be found in verses 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 12-19, 24, 57-60, 74, 77, 87, 97, and 102-3468. [Footnote A: _Publisher_: But you don't give the verses. _Author_: I know. It's a little idea I got from an excellent Sunday newspaper.] George Leghorn was an Albino, but his figure was very graceful. From the specimen which I have already given, it will be easy to believe that his wit was fluorescent, detergent, and vibratory. He afterwards became a well-known personality on the turf. He gained a considerable fortune by laying the odds; his family were all reputed to be good layers. Dear old Peter Cochin was staunch and true. He reminds me of something that my illustrious model says of another man. She says that he "would risk telling me or anyone he loved, before confiding to an inner circle, faults which both he and I think might be corrected." Grammar was no doubt made for slaves--not for the brilliant and autobiographical. All the same, a prize should be offered to anybody who can find the missing "risk" in mentioning to another a point on which both are agreed. She adds that she has had "a long experience of inner circles." There, it must be admitted, she is ahead of me. But the only inner circle of which I have had a long experience has been much improved since it was electrified. In congratulating Peter upon a new appointment, with three under him, I asked when I first met him. His reply was particularly staunch, and I quote from it: "It was in May 28, 1913. The hour was 1.38.5 Greenwich Time, and I shall never forget it. You were sixteen then, and the effect as you came into the room was quintessential. Suddenly the sunlight blazed, the electric light went on automatically till the fuses gave way, the chimney caught fire, the roof fell in, the petrol tank exploded, old R--y said that he should never care to speak to his wife again, and the butler dropped the Veuve Clicquot. After that the shooting party came in, but for some reason or other the sentence was not carried out."