[Illustration: _Fish Hawker (reading a book of Natural History he has bought for his son's birthday)._ "LIZ, I BIN SWINDLED. I'VE READ ALL FROO THE INDEX OF FISHES, AN' KIPPERS AIN'T EVEN MENTIONED."] * * * * * MUCH THE BETTER HALF. "Then you mean that neither of you is coming to the concert?" said Margery. "Speaking for myself," said John, "the answer is in the affirmative--or negative, just as you prefer. Any way, I'm not coming. Your worthy brother must decide for himself." "Our worthy brother-in-law has spoken for me, Margery," I said; "I also regret my inability to assist at the revels." "Then all I can say is I think you're a couple of pigs." "Margery, Margery," said John, "really your language----I shall have to write to the papers about you." "That's the idea," I joined in. "'The Modern Flapper,' by 'Broad-minded but Shocked.' You'd better look out, Margery, or you'll never marry. The papers are full of letters about people like you. There's a beauty this morning. Half a minute; I'll read it to you." "Don't trouble yourself, please," said Margery, curling her lip up somewhere over her right eyebrow. "No trouble at all, it's a pleasure," I said, turning over the pages. "Ah! here we are. This is signed 'Disgusted Ex-Soldier.' Listen:-- "'SIR,--Speaking as one but recently returned to so-called civilisation after the horrors of two years of war ["Conscript!" said John], may I venture to give you my opinion of the Modern Girl ...'" "That's you he means," said John. "Pah!" said Margery. "And bah! to you twice," said John. "Shush, both of you," I said; "listen to 'Disgusted Ex-Soldier':-- "'What was it kept up our hearts and spirits during the terrible days and nights in the trenches?'" "The Rum Ration," cried John. "Hear, hear. Loud cries of 'Down with Pussyfoot!'" "Nothing of the sort," I said. "'It was the thought of the sweet simple girls at home in England that nerved us during those frightful days.'" "Was it? So it was. Of course," said John feebly, "I forgot." "'It was for them that we suffered as we did.'" "Did we? I mean was it? So it was," said John, growing enthusiastic. "Good old 'Ex-Soldier!' What's he say next?" "'And when we return at last from the toil and stress of war [Grunts of appreciation from John], what do we find?'" "Pork and beans," said John. I looked at him severely. "John," I said, "this is no matter for idle jesting. Listen what the poor fellow goes on to say, "'What do we find?'" "Boiled be----I don't know, Alan," he finished hurriedly as I looked at him again. "I--I don't think I found anything." "'We find,'" I continued, treating him with contumely, "'a laughing, giggling, smoking, jazzing, frivolous and slangy crowd of ill-mannered flappers, devoid of all interest in the higher aspects of life and thinking only of the latest fox-trot. What hope have I of finding among such as these the woman who will look after my home and bring up my children?'"