Now I had to have those papers, and an idea occurred to me, so I stopped. "I say, how about your dinner? You'll miss it altogether. I don't want to keep you. Perhaps if you hurry off at once----" "Dinner," he cried indignantly, gripping me fiercely by the arm--"what is dinner compared with duty? Do you know, man, I've been doing this bally Special business for over two years and never had a case yet, and now that I've got a real fire--and this is my own fire, mind you, my very own----" "I thought it was mine," I ventured. "You talk to me of dinner! Pass right along, please;" and I found myself back among the crowd, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it. There was a small cheer just then as the flames came through the roof. Of Jones and his wife I saw nothing, but supposed they must have stayed on to enjoy their saddle of mutton, and wondered if they had kept mine hot for me. I could have kept it hot in my own house, I reflected rather miserably. * * * * * The fire had been extinguished. As the crowd dispersed I felt a touch on my shoulder. It was the elderly constable, note-book in hand. "You are Mr. Brown, Sir, of Myrtle Villa?" he inquired patiently. "I haven't had your name and address yet, Sir, for showing an unguarded light at the rear of the premises at 8 P.M." * * * * * "Plain Cook (good). Wanted for country house; six kept."--_Devon and Exeter Gazette_. Too many; sure to spoil the broth. * * * * * "The Irish Party cars are placarded with posters calling on the electors to vote for 'Unity and Party,' and there are the cryptic words, '1/8 Up. M'Kenna.'"--_Daily Paper_. But as the result of the election Mr. MCKENNA went to a slight discount. * * * * * A CHATEAU IN FRANCE. Artists reared it in courtly ages; WATTEAU and FRAGONARD limned its walls; Powdered lackeys and negro pages Served the great in its shining halls; Minstrels played, in its salons, stately Minuets for a jewelled king, And radiant gallants bowed sedately To lovely Pompadours curtseying. Pigeons cooed in its dovecots shady; Down in the rose-walk fountains played; Many a lovelorn lord and lady Here in the moonlight sighed and strayed; Here was beauty and love and laughter, Splendour and eminence bravely won; But now two walls and a blackened rafter Grimly tell the tale of the Hun. My lady's chamber is dust and ashes; The painted salons are charred with fire; The dovecot pitted with shrapnel splashes, The park a tangle of trench and wire; Shell-holes yawn in the ferns and mosses; Stripped and torn is the avenue; Down in the rose-walk humble crosses Grow where my lady's roses grew.