"And so you did, dear--surely you have been in the thick of it. Constantly have I seen appeals for Ruritania in the Press." Anne permitted herself a faint gesture. "Everything was going so well," she continued, dusting the shepherdess abstractedly. "We had a splendid committee, and Lady Rogerson was leaving for Ruritania with our Ladies' Coffee Unit this morning. They were going to provide hot refreshment for the gallant mountaineers as they marched through their beautiful mountain passes--they have them, haven't they, Herbert?" "They must have," I said hotly. It was a nice state of affairs if they were going to back out of the coffee on that preposterous ground. "At the last moment," she sobbed, and, dropping the shepherdess, was quite overcome. I was seriously concerned for poor Anne, whose affection for the Ruritanians was only rivalled by her ignorance of where the blessed country is. "At the station," she said suddenly in a low voice, "news came that Ruritania was not even at war." "Monstrous," I cried. "Most monstrous." "So we all came back, and Lady Rogerson was so splendid and looked so brave in her sombrero and brass buttons. She explained how it was all her own fault--that old Colonel Smith had muddled the names of the Allies, and that we must be patient because who knew what might or might not happen in the future? But would you believe it, several of the Committee said the most awful things about Ruritania and poor Lady Rogerson, and in the middle of it all the telephone bell rang." "Ah," I said, with a knowing look. "And Lady Rogerson, after a moment, laid down the receiver, turned like BOADICEA, and said in a voice I shall never forget, 'Ladies and gentlemen, Ruritania declared war this afternoon. If the Coffee Unit starts immediately they can catch the night train.'" Anne paused and made a little cairn of broken china on the mantelpiece. "I'm so glad," I said, stroking her hand--"so glad. Lady Rogerson deserved her triumph." Anne made no comment for a moment. When she spoke her voice was poignant. "The Committee sang the National Anthem," she resumed miserably, "and we all put on our Ruritanian flags. A vote of confidence in dear Lady Rogerson was passed amidst tremendous enthusiasm, and the Coffee Unit set off for the station." "It must now be on its way," I remarked briskly. "No," said Anne, "never." "But Ruritania?" Anne trailed to the door. She was a wonderful artist in effects. "Ruritania declared war"-- "I know, my dear--you said so"-- "Upon the Allies," added Anne, and left the room. It was, considering everything, a rotten thing for Ruritania to do. * * * * * [Illustration: _Boots (in Irish hotel)._ "I'VE FORGOTTEN, CAPTAIN, WHETHER YOU WANTED TO BE CALLED AT SIX OR SEVEN." _Voice from within._ "WHAT TIME IS IT NOW?" _Boots._ "EIGHT, YER HONOUR."] * * * * * Our Helpful Critics.