"Aha! Suspects!" I exclaimed grimly. "I shall take all these to the laboratory at the Food Controller's Headquarters, where Mrs. Marrow will submit each tuber to a meticulous test in order to satisfy herself as to its _bona fides_. You will be gratified to hear that, should your potatoes prove to be all they seem, the Controller will issue you a blue card, registering you as a certified vendor of Government-tested potatoes. This you may place in your window for the information of your customers. If the test proves unsatisfactory"--I paused. In the deathly silence the heavy breathing of Mrs. Marrow was distinctly audible--"you will hear further," I concluded. "Weigh these suspects." They turned the scale at eighteen pounds. "Since in any case the potatoes will be rendered unfit for consumption by the rigorous process through which they will be passed, I am empowered by the Food Controller to compensate you in advance, at a rate not exceeding sevenpence per pound, out of the special appropriation funds, this sum to be returned in the event of the test proving unsatisfactory." So saying I handed him ten-and-sixpence. The basket was carried out to the car by one of the guardians of law and order. Then I headed for Kensington. The Food Controller met us breathlessly at the door. "Oh, what darlings!" she exclaimed. "Do you think they will last out the master's leave?" "They've jolly well got to," declared the master promptly. "There are limits, Elsie, to the elasticity of conscience. Besides, my ability to maintain a flow of official phraseology is exhausted." The Food Controller kissed me very sweetly. It was cheap at ten-and-sixpence. * * * * * TURKISH MUSIC. [According to "a distinguished neutral" there is a great demand in Constantinople just now for pianos.] Of all occasions to unfaithful scoffers Given by Turkey in this year of grace, The unexpected homage that she offers To the piano holds the foremost place. For Turkish music, _vide_ GROVE and others, Meant in the past the cymbals and big drum, And piccolo, a group which wholly smothers All other instruments and strikes them dumb. Compared with this barbaric combination The tinkling of the keys, so soft and clear, Is lacking in explosive concentration, And yet there's more in them than meets the ear. At least, one reason for this revolution Is plain; the keyboard, though its tones are cold, Viewed as a means of rapid "execution" Endears itself to Turks both Young and Old. * * * * * "M. Bratiano, Rumanian Prime Minister and Minister for Foreign Affairs, has returned to Bukarest from Petrograd."--_The Times_. The force of habit, we presume. How surprised the German Governor must have been to see him. * * * * * [Illustration: AT THE EXHIBITION OF THE "FORERUNNERS' SOCIETY."