"No! no! I won't hear of it," laughed Brown; "I admit the fence, but not the theory. You see," he went on, turning to Mrs. Robinson, "I've always insisted, as Smith knows, that there's plenty of landing space in his paddock, provided you do it up wind. The fact is I glided in to-night from east to west. Thought I should be dead head on; but I believe I was a couple of points out in my reckoning and so failed to bring the old 'bus to a stand short of the fence. You know, Smith," he added, with an injured air, "you ought to have a wind-pointer rigged up so's there'd be no doubt about it." "Just to encourage reckless old gentlemen to smash up my premises, I suppose," retorted John. "But I admit I found some consolation for my smashed fence when I observed the pathetic appearance of your under carriage, after your famous landing." "And now," said Millie to Mr. Brown, "all will be forgotten and forgiven if you'll come into the drawing-room and let Mr. and Mrs. Robinson hear you sing that jolly song about "'Come and have a flip In a big H Pip,' etc. "You know." * * * * * "The egg shortage notwithstand, the Easter egg rolling carnival at Preston, which dates back to mediaeval times, was, after a lapse of four years, celebrated with great musto." _Midland Paper._ Pre-war eggs, apparently. * * * * * ANOTHER CANDID CANDIDATE. "---- BOARD OF GUARDIANS. "Mrs. ---- desires to thank all who voted so splendidly, placing her at the top of the pole." _Provincial Paper_. * * * * * "The queue at one part of the morning extended from the booking office, past the Midland Station entrance, into City Square, along the front of the Queen's Hotel, to the top of yesterday."--_Yorkshire Paper_. Better than the middle of next week, anyhow. * * * * * [Illustration: _Voice_. "IS THAT THE GREAT SOUTHERN RAILWAY?" _Flapper_. "YES." _Voice_. "ARE YOU THE PASSENGER DEPARTMENT?" _Flapper_. "NO, I'M THE GOODS."] * * * * * [Illustration: _The Village Oracle._ "YOU MARK MY WORDS--THESE 'ERE GERMANS 'LL DO US DOWN AT THIS FINISH. THEY'LL PAY THE BLOOMIN' SIX THOUSAND MILLIONS, OR WOTEVER IT IS, IN THREEPENNY BITS; AND THEN 'OO THE 'ELL'S GOING TO COUNT IT?"] * * * * * "AS YOU WERE." A MEMORY OF MI-CARÊME. Chippo Munks is a regular time-serving soldier, as distinguished from the amateurs who only joined the Army for the sake of a war. His company conduct-sheet runs into volumes, and in peace-time they fix a special peg outside the orderly-room for him to hang his cap on. At present he systematically neglects the functions of billet-orderly at a Base town in France. A month or two ago he came across Chris Jones.