"Not any longer," said his wife with a little confident laugh. "That's all right now. Taking the new name was to settle that, you know." Mr. Bannockburn was attempting to eat a cake, but at these words he gave it up. He struck a match angrily and lit a cigar--a Havana. "Well, what is it you want to show me?" he asked. "The cards," she said. "They look splendid. Here," and she handed a visiting-card across the table and drew his attention to the delicate copper-plate in which their new name had been inscribed: "Mrs. Julius Bannockburn." Mr. Bannockburn scowled afresh. "How many of these have you ordered?" he asked anxiously. "Five hundred for each of us," she replied. "And they're done. They all came this morning." Mr. Bannockburn groaned again. "What ridiculous haste!" he said. "Where was all the hurry?" Mrs. Bannockburn laughed. "Well, I must say!" she exclaimed. "You to complain of things being done quickly! I've done all you told me," she continued. "Everything. I sent a notice to the Post Office about the telephone directory, telling them to alter the name. I sent to KELLY'S about the London Directory. I told all the tradespeople. I got the cards. I even went further and ordered a few silver labels for your walking-sticks and umbrellas. I thought you would like that." Mr. Bannockburn puffed at his cigar and said nothing. "Aren't I a good head clerk?" she went on. "But, after all, when one does change one's name it is wise to go right through with it, isn't it?" "Yes," said her husband ominously, "when one does change one's name." "What do you mean?" Mrs. Bannockburn asked sharply. "Has anything gone wrong?" "Everything," he said. "I've had a notice forbidding changes of name altogether. Everyone has had it." "When did you get it?" his wife inquired with a flutter. "To-day." "Then it's all right," she said excitedly. "We made the change several days ago." "Yes," replied her husband, "but the notice goes on to say that everyone who has changed since the war began must revert to the name he had before the war commenced. You can't get away from that." "But we paid for it," Mrs. Bannockburn exclaimed. "We paid for it. Why did they take our money?" "They didn't know then," said her lord. "It's only just decided by this infernal Government." Mrs. Bannockburn turned white. "This is terrible," she said. "And how unfair! How grossly unfair! It's not as if we were Germans. I'm not a German at all, and you are merely a German's son, and British to the core. Of course they'll give the money back?" "It says nothing about that," replied the Briton. "How very unlike England!" she said. "Yes," he agreed; "but the point is, apart from the horrible expense of it all, that here we are, saddled with a name which is bound to keep customers away and which we thought we had got rid of for ever. It's horrible. It's wrong. It's a shame." He paced the room furiously.