“Yes” gruntled Mr. Withersq as the strings of his parcels cut his fingers a bit and he was sore tired. A taxi swam up to the edge of the path and the man opened the door of it and Selia nipped in and sank down in its interiaw. “Where to?” said the driver, which made Mr. Withersq think twice before he spoke that time. Seeing his destress the sarjent-looking man wispered in his ear as a sugestion: “why not the Grand Palace my good sir, it is very sentral.” So Mr. Withersq got to the point at last and ordered the taxi to go to the Grand Palace, which he did. When they got there Mr. Withersq stumped into the hall as he had had an idear. “Trot me out the boss!” he cried to the trembling girl in the glass desk there and she ran for him. When he came he was fat and red. “I am the manager” he utered. “So?” said Mr. Withersq knowing well that would make him feel small. “Well I am Mr. Withersq, my unckle Burt has left me many millions, I have my lady Selia with me, I am the Head Poet of the Land and I wish to rent your second and third floors all to myself one for me and one for her, as only the best will do for us.” “You want two whole floors?” spat the red manager. “I do” said Mr. Withersq. “But what of those who are within the floors?” said the manager who was very afraid by now. “Tell them I will foot their bills” replyed Mr. Withersq “and ask no questions if they will get out.” The red man turned pale now and ran away to do Mr. Withersquashes bequest, and Mr. Withersq went to fech Selia and the band struck up in the hall amongst the parms and sweet flowers, and the girl in the glass desk bowed and so the pair proudly entered and went up the stares to their apartments, and those who had been in the rooms before went hurried down the back stairs, but it was no trouble to them as they knew that they had made on the bargen. After they had gone to their two floors and settled down and sent for all their close, Selia called down the stairs to her Harold: “I say, Squashy dear, lets go for a ride on a horse.” “Why yes” said Mr. Withersq, “that is a very smart thing to do indeed, I wonder we did not think of it before.” So he rang the bell that was standing on a little tabel very handy in the passage, and a dear little boy with three rows of beady butons all up his coat came tripping to reply to it. “Go out and buy me some breeches” ordered Mr. Withersq “my dear little lad. And please get me two whips and a riding skirt for the lady. Be quick back and you can keep the change.” And he handed him a bag full of money.