"Delighted, delighted!" said the Archdeacon, pressing Mr. Oldstein’s hand. Had it not been for the fairies the welcome would assuredly have been less cordial; but since the evening of Mayday there had been changes. The ecclesiastic was living up to his creed. He greeted Oldstein warmly, and wondered why he had come. Emmanuel was awed and enchanted. Never had he dreamed that life could be so clean and precious as here he found it. He felt, poor man in the egoism of humble ignorance, a vulgar intruder; and for the first time in his span of existence, realized that his hands were large and his manners out of polish. Somehow the rings he wore made his fingers uglier. Tea was brought in on a silver tray. The food was daintily insufficient. The Archdeacon sipped at a cup and talked long words. Oldstein said "Yeth," mumbled at his slices of butter spread with bread, and heard nothing. He mentally kicked himself for having blundered into that Anglo-celestial place. So it went on for a time. The Archdeacon was bored. The fairy seeing things awry, hastened to put them right. She hovered before the Archdeacon’s head--her moving wings made music which only fairies could hear--and touched his lips with her wand. She recognized that he was the man to lead the talking. He became at once more sociable. "Do you golf?" he asked. "No, but I’ve thold golf-balls." "Ah, you should play. You should join my new Association which pledges every member to use one club only--preferably the mashie--on a round." Golf remained the subject while the tea lasted. The Archdeacon kept the talk going. "So our movement of fairy reform goes ahead admirably," Dr. Pryde exclaimed, coming to the real subject at last, as he rose, stretched, and posed by the mantelpiece. "We are comrades under Oberon’s banner--comrades in a growing and victorious army." He admired his rolling periods, and took his box of lozenges from a drawer. "Yeth," said the other, who still felt that his feet were all boots. "I had a letter from the Lord Mayor this morning. Sir Titus--a wonderful man, wonderful man, truly one of us!--is instituting a new league--Titania’s Bodyguard it is called, consisting of all sorts and conditions of old men and maidens, young men and children; to remove the blemishes which uglify--’uglify’ is Alice’s word, not mine--which uglify London." He ceased his pompous talk to look pomposity. He caught his reflection in a mirror, and improved his deportment. "Yeth," again Emmanuel faltered. He wanted to express views, but in that present state of shyness and nervousness his mind seemed mere whirl and pudding. "Talking of Alice, we could do with a little more topsyturvydom in real life, could not we?" June smiled. Here was proof that she had him. "I wish Harlequin with his wand would transform some of our business men and Bumbles and give them better sympathies and wits." "’Ear, ’ear!"