His face lit up in a brilliant smile. "No, Sir," he replied, drawing himself up majestically and looking me squarely in the eye, "we keep these to show to inquisitive customers. _We only sell_ WHITE RATS!" I fled. As I crossed the interminable length of floor that separated me from the door I could feel that contemptuous smile rowelling my shrinking vertebrae. Halfway across, the Blue Himalyan guinea-pig could have given me three drachms and whipped me by sheer brute strength. As I sped towards the door an attendant opened it. It was unnecessary. I could easily have crept underneath it. ALGOL. * * * * * [Illustration: _Magistrate._ "DO YOU WANT A LAWYER TO DEFEND YOU?" _Prisoner._ "NOT PARTICULARLY, SIR." _Magistrate._ "WELL, WHAT DO YOU PROPOSE TO DO ABOUT THE CASE?" _Prisoner._ "OH, I'M QUITE WILLING TO DROP IT AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED."] * * * * * "VACUUM for Sale, good condition. After 6 o'clock."--_Provincial Paper._ Our own is generally at its best about an hour and a-half later. * * * * * [Illustration: _Mistress_ (_returned from shopping_). "HAS ANYONE CALLED, LAURA, WHILE I'VE BEEN OUT?" _Laura_ (_newly from the country and eager to display her progress in urban manners_). "NO, MA'AM, ONLY THE TELEPHONE RANG, MA'AM, AND I DID PUT ON MY CLEAN CAP AND APRON TO ANSWER IT, MA'AM."] * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. (_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)